Harry Potter and the Reversion of Time
by malebron
Summary: Travelling through Time in pursuit of an unstable Time-Turner made of spare parts should be all in a day's work for Head Auror Harry Potter; it's just what he needs to distract himself from his administrative backlog. But things don't go according to plan. Or perhaps the plan isn't what he thought it was. It's a whole new adventure and Time is of the essence.
1. Act 1, Scene 1: Grown to Man's Estate

With eternal thanks to the indefatigable and extremely busy Cordelia McGonagall for betaing. All mistakes are mine.

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 **ACT I**

 **SCENE I**

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 **GROWN TO MAN'S ESTATE**

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"Dear Mr Diggory." As Harry dictated, he warily watched a cheap DMLE-issue quill scratch its way across a sheet of thin DMLE-issue parchment. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the enormous desk, clasped his hands behind his head, and continued. "My apologies for the tardy reply to your missive of" _—_ he slid his coffee mug aside and tried to decipher the now slightly smudged date—"12thJuly." The quill gave a wet burp and discharged a dark blob of ink.

"You useless thing!" He swung his feet down, screwed the parchment up and threw it on top of several other crumpled rejects. There must be somewhere he could get more Muggle ballpoint pens. It was the sort of thing Percy would know.

As if he might be able to make Percy materialise at his own tidy desk, Harry gazed longingly towards the small outer office, which normally housed his secretary but was currently, and much to Harry's inconvenience, unoccupied.

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As befitted the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry's office was well-appointed. It was not too large for comfort, but still spacious enough to accommodate the occasional interdepartmental meeting. Portraits of his deceased predecessors hung on two of the panelled walls, and deep shelves stuffed with books and scrolls and case files—most of which Harry had never opened in his fifteen years of occupancy—lined the third from floor to ceiling. Set into the fourth wall was a large window and beside that was the door to a private bathroom. A bathroom Harry would have used more if the toilet didn't have a tendency to make conversation at inappropriate times. All the furniture—the huge desk, several chairs and a leather Chesterfield sofa—was brown and shiny. It was reminiscent, Harry thought, of a Muggle gentlemen's club, or at least of how he thought one might look. And that was how he liked it. The only significant addition since 1874 had been a facetious label reading: _221b Baker St._ , which Ron had fastened to the door with a Permanent Sticking Charm twelve years before on his final day as an Auror.

All things considered, Harry had nothing to complain about, but at times he was disheartened by a frustrating sense of inadequacy. In particular, his desk periodically threatened to overwhelm him. It was a vast piece of furniture, wider than Harry was tall, with several deep drawers—most of which were stuffed with bric-a-brac he didn't expect to ever need, and would probably not be able to find if he did. The only other desk like it in the Ministry was the Minister's own desk. But Hermione, though slight of stature, had never been intimidated by her own. She made it fit her in a way Harry had never managed, and as usual, his was littered with papers and parchments, empty coffee cups and pens that didn't work properly.

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He leaned forward, picked up another quill and a fresh sheet of parchment and started again, this time writing by hand.

 _As you may be aware, my secretary is currently taking paternity leave and is not due to return for several months. Consequently, non-urgent matters are experiencing some delay and I am currently unable to arrange an appointment to meet with you. Perhaps you could contact the office again in due course. Yours Sincerely, H. Potter, Head, DMLE._

He folded the parchment and copied the address from the letter. _Amos Diggory, St Oswald's Home for Old Witches and Wizards, Upper Flagley._ Then he put the letter on top of the very small pile in his out-tray and surveyed his overloaded in-tray with pursed lips and a growing sense of defeat. Even the window on his office wall was displaying such a relentless drizzle he could hardly see the forest beyond. The view would not clear until his administrative backlog was under control.

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After ordering the defective quills along one edge of the desk using the stiff cover of a folder to ensure that the nibs lined up perfectly, he collected the loose documents into a pile which he waved from one side of his desk to the other until he was satisfied with their position. Then he rearranged them in order of size—largest at the bottom, smallest at the top—as he tried to calculate how much longer his secretary would be off work.

 _Twins._ Percy was hardly likely to come back early with twins to deal with, especially as the happy event had come so late in life for him and Audrey. Well past the time anyone had expected it. They would be full of the joy and optimism of new parenthood, oblivious to the tribulations ahead.

The thought filled Harry with sour envy. Nowadays he was inclined to think anyone would make a better job of parenting than he was doing himself. James was developing into a confident, ebullient, sometimes slightly brash young man, and Lily had a busier social life and a more rapidly changing circle of friends than Harry could hope to keep up with. But Albus. Well, Albus . . . _What_ _was he going to do with Albus?_ Of late, the boy radiated unhappiness, and seemed to have cultivated an impermeable shell of prickly, uncommunicative defensiveness coupled with an intense dislike of Hogwarts which bordered on a phobia. Harry, who had loved school so much, was mystified.

It was true that Harry had been a little taken aback by Albus's first-year Sorting into Slytherin—though not, it seemed, as taken aback as Albus himself. Was that where the trouble had started? Privately he had wondered if Albus could have tried just a little harder to be sorted into Gryffindor, but he had never expressed his doubts to anyone else, not even Ginny.

And then there was the friendship Albus had developed with the Malfoy boy. Harry was unsettled by it, but any attempt to broach the subject was received with stubborn silence, dark looks, and slammed doors.

Harry did not exactly dislike young Scorpius, but he was wary of him. The pale, delicate boy had a ready wit and immaculate good manners that had won Ginny over in no time, but his apparently effortless charm succeeded only in making Harry rather resentful.

"That boy will break hearts when he's older, mark my words," Ginny had said. "I just hope our Albus's isn't one of them."

Harry had stared at her, disconcerted. "You don't think Albus is—?"

"He's our son. That's all that matters. And don't be so old-fashioned."

Harry had been hurt but persistent. "Ginny, will you ask Ron to have a word with Rose? You know, ask her to take Albus under her wing a bit?"

Ginny had shrugged. "I can ask, but you can't stop Albus getting hurt. Your job is to be there when he needs you. That's all."

And Harry was unable to comprehend how Ginny could be so cavalier about her own son's happiness.

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He pulled another letter out of his pocket; this one was written on thick parchment with the distinctive Hogwarts crest at the top. Just in case he had missed something in the first half-dozen or so times of reading, he read it again.

 _Dear Auror and Mrs Potter, As we approach the beginning of term and this important stage in your son Albus's education, I feel it necessary to review his progress. During the last academic year, Albus made little effort with his school work and seemed to be deliberately isolating himself from his peers (with the exception of his friend, Scorpius). He has taken no part in extracurricular activities and did not even support his own House Quidditch team. I am concerned that if Albus continues on this path_ _,_ _he will fail to fulfil his potential. Indeed, unless he makes a significant effort in the coming year, I have doubts that he will achieve even basic levels in his O.W.L.s which will, of course, put not only his N.E.W.T.s but his whole future in jeopardy._

 _I trust you will be able to address these issues before Albus returns for the beginning of the autumn term._

 _Cordially Yours,_

 _Prof. M. McGonagall (Head)_

In despair, Harry put the letter back in his pocket and sorted the papers on his desk into several smaller piles according to colour. When he had done that, he sent the pink interdepartmental memos sailing up into a spiral below the high ceiling. Idly, he observed them for several seconds before picking up the single unopened envelope that comprised the cream-coloured pile.

 _Not again,_ he thought, having a fair idea of what was in the smooth, expensive envelope with the green and silver coat-of-arms proudly gleaming in the corner. _What in Hades does Malfoy expect me to do?_ He opened it.

 _Potter_. No standing on ceremony for the Great Malfoy then.

 _Despite my previous requests for you to take action on the matter, the completely unfounded gossip concerning my son's parentage continues to circulate. Although it beggars belief that I would use a Time-Turner—even supposing such a thing still existed!—to allow Voldemort to impregnate my beloved wife, these abhorrent rumours persist. In addition, Scorpius's ill-advised friendship with your younger son is impeding his building healthier and more appropriate relationships with his peers. He is a sensitive young man_ _,_ _and since the death of his mother last year he is particularly vulnerable to unwanted and malign influences._

 _I would politely request that without further delay you take action to ensure that in future your son keeps his distance from Scorpius._

 _Yours in anticipation,_

 _D. Malfoy._

Although Harry shared Draco's unease about the intensity of the relationship between their sons, the suggestion that Albus was in some way malign infuriated him, and Draco's letter landed on the growing mound of discarded papers.

To take his mind off his domestic problems, he picked up a fat package marked: _TOP SECRET. Property of UKDMLE._ It had been closed with a Ministry seal, so presumably Hermione had already seen it.

" _Retego,"_ Harry said and emptied the contents on to the desk. Recognising the handwriting, he eagerly picked up a letter marked _FAO Minister Granger-Weasley/Head Auror Potter._ In less than a minute, Harry's domestic anxieties were forgotten.

 _H &H,_ said the letter. _I was in Albania on Gringotts business a couple of weeks back, just after the earthquake—you must have heard about that? There were rumours among the goblins about something large moving into the mountains, possibly trolls. But there aren't trolls in that part of the world! I went out to see for myself and didn't find anything, but there was a lot of disturbance on the ground. MASSIVE footprints and hoofprints! There are so many caves in those hills, anything could be hiding there. The farmers and villagers are very frightened. They claim to have seen livestock attacked by a flying beast with the head and wings of an eagle but the body of a great cat. And the Greek Minister told me (in strictest confidence) that one of their operatives swore he had seen a Minotaur. A Minotaur, you chaps! No one in living memory has seen one of those!_

 _One of my colleagues mentioned that the earthquake had raised some land mass right down in the south of the country, exposing the remains of a temple that had been underwater for thousands of years. It seems quite a coincidence, don't you think? I can't make much of it myself, but something is going on and thought you should know. See enclosed._

 _C.V._

 _Bill._

A page from the Sunday supplement of a Muggle newspaper contained a short article about the temple. A number of photographs showed stonework, broken sections of stone columns and parts of a statue which had been lifted from the sea bed.

 _The portico,_ Harry read, _was a triangular pediment supported by Doric columns and had a representation of the Ouroboros or World-Serpent carved in a central medallion. Also found were the partial remains of a statue comprising a head and torso and a single lower leg and foot with a wing at the ankle believed to be from the same statue. The effigy may represent Hermes: the 'Divine Trickster.'_

Here a photograph showed the partial remains of a statue. The carved marble face was fine featured, with heavily lidded eyes and an enigmatic half-smile.

 _However,_ the text continued, _something has broken away between the shoulder blades of the torso, and archaeologists speculate that the statue also had wings on its back, and may be an as-yet unnamed deity._

An artist's impression showed the end of a gracefully proportioned building and a classical statue of a youth with wings on his back and ankles. There was something almost feminine about it. _Androgynous,_ thought Harry _. That was the word._

A newspaper article was attached to the page. This one was written in Greek. Harry picked up his wand. " _Interprio."_

 _Scientists are mystified by multiple sightings of cattle of a type believed to have been extinct for a millennium. To date, over a hundred animals have been rounded up but sightings continue to be reported. No one has claimed ownership of the beasts and the Department of Agriculture estimates that upwards of six hundred of the animals are still at large. Reports of damage to gardens, outbuildings and vehicles are expected to result in substantial claims for compensation, though insurance companies are disputing liability, citing 'Act of God' exclusions. Cases are expected to drag on for years. Meanwhile, Public Health advisers have expressed concern that the considerable amounts of manure and effluent could constitute a health hazard. Members of the public are asked to be cautious and not to attempt to capture the beasts. The animals are not believed to be aggressive but due to their exceptional size could be dangerous if threatened._

A tremor of excitement quickened Harry's pulse. He would ask Hermione to approve a reconnaissance party to go out there for a week or two. A change of scene and a bit of excitement was just what he needed.

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	2. Act 1, Scene 2: In the Wink of an Eye

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 **ACT I**

 **SCENE II**

 **.**

 **EVER AGAIN IN THE WINK OF AN EYE**

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A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Ow!" Harry cracked his elbow on the edge of his desk as his chair crashed to the floor.

The circling memos dropped out of the air and landed in a heap in front of him. With a flick of his wand he lifted the chair back into place and organised the papers into a neat pile. Then, in case it was Hermione—though generally she didn't bother knocking—he picked up his quill.

"Come!" he called and lowered his head in apparent concentration. The door opened and Harry lifted his head to see a frail, elderly man, his pink scalp misted with thin wisps of white hair, shuffling into the room. With relief, Harry discarded his pen and rubbed his elbow. "Hector! Merlin's whiskers, haven't you retired? Can't you keep away?" He summoned another chair from the corner of the room.

"Ah," Hector tottered forwards. "I like to pop by from time to time —if you'll pardon the pun—just to catch up and see how Erasmus is getting on."

"Sit down." Harry waved Hector into the seat. "What can I do for you?"

Hector sat uncomfortably on the edge of the chair and wrung his hands. "It is a little delicate, Auror Potter. A matter of some concern has come to my attention. Oh dear." He stopped talking and mopped his brow with his sleeve.

"Oh? Come on, Hector, spit it out."

"I, ah, I fear Erasmus may have done something rather—misguided."

"Erasmus has done _what?"_ Glancing at the open folder, Harry's heart started to race. "He hasn't got the Antikythera machine working again has he? I told Kingsley! I bloody told him!"

"No! No. The machine is safely deactivated. Erasmus certainly learned his lesson there. But, ah, he does like to keep busy, you see. And there is not always much to do in the Time Room. Recently he has been working on something else. And I saw no reason he should not, Auror Potter! After all, such technology is better researched and understood than hidden and suppressed. Would you not agree?"

Harry suspected he probably would not, but Hector did not seem to expect an answer and continued. "He knows as well as everyone else the insanity of actually putting it to use. It was just a theoretical exercise!"

Harry's heart slowed, but a cold feeling began to gather somewhere about his middle. "What was just a theoretical exercise?"

"Well, obviously, given his expertise. Time travel."

"Time travel." Harry blinked. " _Time travel?"_

"He has merely been experimenting with certain elements of Time-Turner design."

"But . . . there aren't any Time-Turners! They were all caught in an eternal destruction loop years ago!"

"Oh indeed, Auror Potter, quite so. All the intact Time-Turners here at the Ministry were rendered inaccessible and completely useless."

Harry looked hard at Hector's worried face. "Why is it," he said drily, "that your judicious use of the word 'intact' gives me such a feeling of unease?"

"It is entirely true," Hector said, not meeting Harry's eye, "that until quite recently there were no complete Time-Turners extant. But there were . . . ahem . . . a number of fragments in storage which had been saved for spare parts."

" _Spare parts?"_

Hector was defensive. "It is our function in the Time Room to monitor the movements of Time; to endeavour to understand its principles. That is, after all, why the Time Room is situated in the Department of Mysteries."

"I suppose so," said Harry. "I hadn't given it much consideration."

"Very few people do," Hector said. "Erasmus wished to study the workings of the devices. He believed that it would give us some insight into this great enigma. Ultimately, he concluded that the only way he could get the answers he sought was to reconstruct a functional Time-Turner."

"Reconstruct a Time-Turner out of _spare parts?_ " Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Didn't you think of stopping him?"

Hector cleared his throat. "I was not fully cognisant of this project. Erasmus had not been entirely forthcoming about it until this morning. He means no harm, Auror Potter, he just gets a little carried away and loses his sense of perspective. And in this case he went a trifle further than a simple reconstruction."

"How much further is a _trifle?_ "

"You will know from your own experience that Time-Turners typically have a fairly limited hour-reversal application." Hector's face screwed up in distress. "But this one is—different."

"Different? How different?"

"It can go back in time, but it can also go forward."

Harry digested this and paraphrased. "It can go forward in time as well as back?"

Hector hastened to reassure him. "Only in as far as it can return to the starting point of the journey. It cannot of course travel forward from the present. That would be impossible. After all, the future has not yet happened. Haha!" The laughter was weak and unconvincing.

Harry polished his glasses while he wrapped his mind around this. "So you can travel back in time, but instead of having to live through the passage of time until you reach the point you started from, you can travel forward to where—or when, I suppose—you started."

Hector seemed pleased at Harry's comprehension. "Precisely, Auror Potter."

"But that means you could go back and change something, then come straight back to the present!"

"It is possible that someone without sufficient knowledge of the subject might believe that to be possible," agreed Hector. "Might, in fact believe that one could go back in time in order to change events that have already happened."

Harry sighed. "Well at least they can only go back in time for a few hours, so the potential for damage is limited. But still, Erasmus needs to rediscover his sense of perspective and hand the thing over."

"Ah." Hector fidgeted. "Being able to travel forward in time is not the most significant modification to the device."

The palms of Harry's hands started sweating. He took a deep breath. "Would you like to tell me what is, then?"

"The prototype Time-Turner Erasmus has made can travel significantly further back than a few hours."

Harry counted to five as he breathed out. "How far back?"

"We don't know that there is a limit, however we believe that the further back you go, the less accurately you can pinpoint a destination."

"So how far can you go— _accurately_?"

"Oh." Hector waved a wrinkled hand in the air vaguely. "Forty years. Fifty perhaps."

"Forty years!" Harry considered forty years and studied the photograph of his parents fixed on the wall by his window. They were barely half the age he was now. His mother beamed out at him, and his father winked.

Hector followed Harry's gaze. "No, Auror Potter." His voice was full of sympathy. "When something is done, it must stay done. Even a tiny change"—he nodded towards the picture beside that of Harry's parents: a picture of Ginny, James, Albus and baby Lily—"could alter the course of events in ways you can't imagine. Would you save your parents if it meant you lost your children?"

Harry swallowed the hard lump in his throat and took a mouthful of cold coffee. "You're right." He stood up. "Let's go and talk to Erasmus. Of course the thing will have to be destroyed. I'm sure he'll understand."

"Ah," Hector said. "He will understand. Indeed he does understand. The trouble is—"

"The trouble is?"

"The trouble is, he can't get rid of it. He doesn't have it."

Harry froze and stared at the miserable Hector. "Doesn't have it! What in Hades do you mean, _doesn't have it_?"

Hector bowed his head. "Erasmus no longer has the new Time-Turner. The device has been stolen."

Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted to the glare and tried to remember the last time he had been in the Time Room. It must have been several years before in any case. But it did not matter. As far as he could tell, the place was exactly the same as the first time he had seen it a quarter of a century earlier. The air still vibrated with ticking and whirring punctuated with an occasional chime or breathy 'cuckoo'. Harsh light still poured from the huge bell jar, inside which a tiny bird continued oblivious on its eternal circular journey of birth and death. Near to it, a tall glass cabinet lurched forward as if thrown; disintegrating noiselessly into shards and splinters which immediately knitted together and flew back flat against the wall, only to topple and smash again and again. Inside it, Time-Turners of all shapes and sizes shattered and reformed in their never-ending destruction loop.

"This way, Auror Potter," Hector broke Harry from his reverie. "I find the light in here rather hard on my old eyes." Hector directed Harry into an alcove partly hidden behind a huge cupboard, the doors intricately carved with serpents and mythical beasts, suns, moons and stars. A pale and trembling Erasmus Prince, Acting Head of the Department of Time, was sitting on the edge of a flimsy chair, twisting an oily rag between his fingers.

Harry still saw Erasmus briefly once a year for a sketchy review of his Azkaban licence but it had never been more than a cursory formality. Now he paid more attention. How long was it since they had first crossed paths? Eleven or twelve years? It was nearly that long since Erasmus had taken responsibility for the running of the department from the elderly Hector, but even Hermione had not been brave enough to ask the Wizengamot to sanction the official appointment of a former Death-Eater to such an important Unspeakable position—regardless of the fact that there were no other candidates for the post. Most of Erasmus's hair had gone, leaving a freckled bald pate with an untidy greying fringe. Although his arms and face were still thin, a pot-belly swelled at the front of his robes. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

As Erasmus pushed his spectacles up his long, rather pointed nose, his hand shook, though he spoke steadily. "Auror Potter."

Harry was not inclined to sympathy. "Hector informs me you've managed to lose a Time-Turner you shouldn't have had in the first place. Is that correct?"

"In a manner of speaking." Erasmus coughed and gulped. "It was Theodore Nott who took it. I left the room for barely five minutes and when I returned he had gone and so had the device."

"Theo Nott? But—why? What was he doing here and what interest does he have in Time-Turners?"

"Theodore is something of, um . . ." Erasmus grimaced. "An—accumulator—of curiosities and has a keen scientific mind. We have often discussed such abstract matters over the years. But he said he was merely interested in my work! Fascinated by the concept. I could not see the harm in telling him."

"You couldn't see the harm!" Harry shook his head in disbelief. "This seems to be something of a theme running through your life, does it not? You're an Unspeakable! You aren't supposed to talk about your work to anyone outside the Department of Mysteries! So Theo Nott has the Time-Turner. How long ago did this happen?"

"I believe it was in the region of thirty-six and a half minutes ago."

"The Minister will have to be informed." Harry took a blank memo out of his pocket and scribbled a note. He addressed it to the Minister's Office, marked it as urgent, and sent it zipping away. Irritated by the nervy Erasmus, he stepped out into the main chamber of the Time Room where Hector was polishing an immense cuckoo clock. The window about halfway along one long wall of the Time Room was rather was larger than most windows in the Ministry, and Harry wandered over to it, watching it curiously. Much of the time it was black and featureless, but every few minutes a tiny light appeared somewhere near the middle. Over the next few seconds, the light grew and expanded, becoming amorphous and developing more colours. Long flares started to break away and fly off to the edges of the window, disappearing from view, then the whole thing began to roil and churn, growing bigger and encompassing the whole window until, with a brilliant flash it exploded, and Harry had to look away from the blinding light. Abruptly everything was sucked back into the tiny spot which remained static like a bright star for a few seconds, before that too disappeared and the window turned quite black again. Harry watched the cycle repeat several times before he thought to ask Hector what he was seeing.

Hector looked surprised. "What would you expect to see here, Auror Potter? Why, it is the beginning and ending of Time itself."

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	3. Act 1, Scene 3: Pictures on the Window

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 **ACT I**

 **SCENE III**

 **LIKE PICTURES ON THE WINDOW GLASS.**

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The toes of Hermione's shiny Ministerial shoes tapped angrily almost in time with the ticking of a loud clock at Harry's side. Her face was crimson with fury. "Let me be clear about this, Hector. Theodore Nott has stolen a Time Turner which Erasmus Prince built out of spare parts? SPARE PARTS!"

If ever Harry had heard someone speaking in capital letters that was it.

"In essence, Minister." Hector twisted his gnarled hands together and Erasmus stared at the floor.

"Erasmus Prince," said Hermione. "Look at me when I'm talking to you! You've broken the terms of your license and betrayed the trust I placed in you. And you two"—she wagged a finger at Harry and Hector—"have failed to exercise any sort of control over him."

"It's not my fault!" protested Harry.

"Erasmus reports to you does he not? I suppose you just put a tick in the box and sent him on his way."

In the absence of any defence Harry subsided.

Hermione put her fists on her hips. "A former Death Eater has abused the privileged position to which he was appointed by me, the Minister of Magic. If this gets out I will probably be removed from my post. And your job"—she looked at Harry—"will be none too secure either."

Harry felt sick.

She turned back to Erasmus. "I understand that the device is some sort of prototype which can apparently go back for—how long?"

Erasmus fiddled nervously with the collar of his robes. "Ah, we haven't identified a precise limit, but we believe it is moderately accurate for, oh . . . fifty years or so."

"FIFTY YEARS!"

"But," Erasmus hastened to add, "unless it is manually adjusted it can only remain active for five minutes before it automatically returns to its chronological point of origin."

"I don't find that altogether reassuring," said Hermione. "Why has Theo Nott taken it? He can't be intending to use it, surely?"

"Oh no," Erasmus reassured her. "Theodore is very well aware of the risks and limitations of time travel. We have had much discussion on the matter. He quite understands the impossibility of changing an existing Time-Path."

"Then why are we worried?"

"I fear Theodore's father may have other ideas."

"His father!" exclaimed Hermione. "What in Merlin's name has his father got to do with this?"

Erasmus fiddled with his spectacles. "I believe Mr Nott had become fixated on the notion of time-travel. I gather he is a somewhat forceful character, and Theodore may have felt unable to stand up to him."

Harry interrupted. "Old Man Nott was a Death Eater back in the day, but he must be seventy-odd by now. Didn't he lose both hands in the war?"

"You're right," said Hermione. "He did. He was released early because he wasn't considered to be a threat."

"You think Theo was acting on his father's behalf?" asked Harry.

"I think it possible." said Erasmus. "Theodore had been asking about the feasibility of going back in time and changing a particular event. His questions were centred about the events which caused his father to sustain the injury to his hands."

Hermione folded her arms and paced up to the bell jar and back. "You believe Theo's father intends to prevent whatever incident led to him losing his hands?" She looked about at the three men. "Is it possible to change the course of time in that way?"

"Auror Potter," said Hector. " Minister. Your own adventures are well-documented. I take it you understand the established principles?"

"In general," agreed Hermione. "Doesn't everyone? So why does Nott think he can do something different?"

"Well you can, in theory, change an event. But of course, having changed that event, you also create a new Time-Path for yourself. That, I suspect, is what Mr Nott senior has failed to grasp. Please"—Hector beckoned—"I would like to show you something." He led them through a door which was partly concealed by a gigantic grandfather clock. Erasmus followed them in. It was pitch dark beyond the door and Harry heard Hector say, "Lumos."

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A chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling twinkled into life and Harry looked about. The room had a bare wooden floor and was empty of furniture except for a tall, narrow chest of drawers. All about the walls were ranged portraits, some blinking and yawning in the unaccustomed light, others apparently fast asleep. Occasionally a gentle snore or fart could be heard. One of the portraits waved at Hector and he responded with a little bow. "Octavius Tittle," he explained. "My immediate predecessor."

The room was rather muggy and smelt faintly of tobacco smoke. Harry suspected the odour came from a portrait of a wizard with a long beard and even longer pipe, which emitted such dense clouds that periodically the portrait was quite hidden and wisps of smoke escaped from around the frame.

"Welcome to the Gallery of Time." Pride was evident in Hector's respectful tone. "As in other departments, when a director of the Time Room dies, a portrait appears in here shortly thereafter. There are occasions when it is immensely useful to be able to draw on the experience of those older and wiser heads."

Harry grunted noncommittally. Such had not so far been his own experience with previous Head Aurors.

"There is, of course, centuries of knowledge here. But . . ." Hector led them across the room and stood in front of a plain wooden frame. The canvas was blank. At the bottom of the frame was a small label, which Harry and Hermione peered at. It read: Augusta Twigg, Head of Department, 1877-

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other; then, as one, turned to Hector for an explanation. He pulled open a drawer in the tall chest and took out several books which he put on the top of the chest before pulling out battered journal.

Harry nudged the books round to face him and was surprised to see that they were mostly fairy tales. _Jack and the Beanstalk; Jack the Giant-Killer; Jack and the Prince of Snakes._

 _._

Hector started to speak again. "Augusta was an exceedingly clever woman who formulated a great many interesting theories. This journal documents her research." He opened the shabby book to about halfway and started to leaf through pages of what looked to Harry like a mass of spidery handwriting punctuated with sketches. His eye was drawn to a page of drawings. Was that a pyramid? And a crude doorway made from three blocks of stone? There was a classical sort of structure too. Doric columns supporting a triangular pediment he thought. It did look rather like the illustration from the magazine article, but likely all Greek temples looked much the same. And surely that was the arch in the Death Chamber?

Before he could ask about it, Hector turned to the next page and pressed his finger to an illustration of a Time-Turner, though one of a curious and more ornate design than Harry had ever seen. It had a number of rings surrounding the central hourglass and the outer ring was decorated with a linear image formed from dots: the image of a snake with its tail in its mouth.

"Augusta had come to the conclusion that someone—or something—from antiquity had the ability to travel through time and was causing mischief," said Hector. "The sort of mischief that often culminated in great distress and destruction. She intended to use a Time-Turner to locate this creature and attempt to curtail his activities. This, of course is the last page of her journal." He closed the book. "The story does not have a conclusion."

"I take it she didn't succeed?" said Hermione.

"How can we know? She never returned, and the empty picture frame you see appeared an hour after her departure. That does seem to imply that she is not, in fact, dead. There is a picture of her in here." Hector opened the front cover of the journal to show them the endpaper where a photograph of a round-cheeked woman smiled merrily out at them from beneath a mop of curly hair. "She was largely considered to be eccentric. Deluded, even! But I am not so sure. She was, as I said, an exceedingly clever woman."

Hermione rubbed her arms as if she was cold. "So we needn't be concerned about Nott? Because if he is stupid enough to attempt to use it and he actually manages to change something, we won't be affected anyway. He will simply find himself on another time-path and never return to this one."

Harry jumped as Erasmus's voice unexpectedly sounded behind him. "Were it a more conventional Time-Turner, yes. But this one is still in the experimental stages. In short, I fear it is . . . unstable."

"Unstable." That was how Harry was starting to feel. "I suppose I have to ask what an unstable Time-Turner might do."

"Well, you see," said Hector, "a Time-Turner works by momentarily reversing the flow of time."

"Time-Turners reverse the flow of time?" said Harry.

"I deeply regret that Time Studies are no longer taught at school," said Hector, "Though it seems perfectly obvious. How else would they work? But I digress. That reversion causes disruption which inevitably has an effect on the normal flow. The limited experiments we have been able to conduct seem to indicate that the prototype device has a significantly stronger effect on the normal flow than the old Time-Turners did. Let us go back into the other room." He ushered Harry and Hermione out of the portrait gallery and back into the main chamber. "Erasmus, can we explain for the Minister and the Head Auror please?"

Erasmus gestured at the window. "The material from which all Time-Turners are made is the same material from which time itself is formed." His expression grew dreamy. "They all contain particles from the very beginning. From the Big Bang." He blinked. "There is still much we do not understand; we are in the realms of theory, but we believe that the potential to destabilise the currents could ultimately result in a rewriting of the rules."

"Rules?" Hermione said sharply.

"It is both far more complex and at the same time simpler than Mr Nott believes." Erasmus waved his wand and summoned a couple of Ministry chairs to face the window. "Please be seated."

Harry and Hermione sat down without a word.

"Unfortunately, time travel theory was dropped from the school curriculum in 1958, being regarded as irrelevant in the modern world. Most people's knowledge is based on misconceptions and inaccuracies." He lifted his wand again saying, "Revelio Tabulara," and the window began to develop a flat, opaque quality until it looked like a blank white screen. Then, to Harry's astonishment, lines began to appear on the surface. As the lines solidified, it began to take on the appearance of a sort of map with many lines branching away from a broader central trunk. He stood up again to look more closely.

"It's moving!" he exclaimed. "It's . . . flowing. It looks like—a river."

"Indeed so, Mr Potter. That may be the most accurate comparison."

Hermione's gaze was sharp. "The Tabula Temporum! I have seen it once before, soon after I took office." She stood and stepped forward to stand beside Harry in front of the map. With her index finger she traced the widest line, following the direction of the current. "This is our Time-Path. The one we are travelling—have already travelled. All these other lines branching off and then some of them branching again"—she traced a thinner line—"and again here, are alternate paths. Is that right?"

Hector nodded. "That is correct, Minister. Clearly there are occasions when other Time-Paths have developed although we do not know how or why. It is possible they result from someone travelling in time, whether with a Time-Turner or another device or even through an accident of nature; we simply have no way of knowing."

"Bloody hell," murmured Harry. He looked more closely at the map as if he would be able to make more sense of it. "This line—our Time-Path—it looks almost as if it's got a . . . shadow!"

"So it does," said Hector. "Indeed, we call it the Shadow-Path."

"What does that do then?" Harry asked.

"We do not know, Auror Potter. Even Erasmus has not succeeded in postulating a logical theory."

Erasmus gave a thin smile.

Hector continued. "In the old days people used to believe it was a path followed by the dead. Or by those who at least were no longer living. And that the Shadow-Path could be accessed through certain mysterious portals."

"Portals?"

Hector waved a dismissive hand. "Such superstitions have no place in these more enlightened scientific days. We have observed that with some frequency the shadow path comes briefly into contact with our own and then moves away again. In fact the most recent convergence took place only about a fortnight ago. The nature of time as we understand it means that different paths should never be able to converge. That leads us to believe that the Shadow-Path follows different rules."

"Why can't—or shouldn't—different time paths converge?" asked Harry.

Erasmus came to stand beside them. "I presume you are familiar with the way magnets repulse each other if the same poles are placed together, but attract at opposite poles?" He steepled his hands, pressing the tips of his fingers together as if in fervent prayer. "A similar principle applies to Time-Paths. They are made of the same material and travelling in the same direction, therefore they are forced apart from each other. They can be very close and moving in parallel, but they can—or should, according to our theory—never touch. We fear that excessive disruption to the flow might, in fact. cause the current to begin flowing in the opposite direction. And if that happens even momentarily—"

Hermione finished his sentence. "Then alternate Time-Paths will be attracted to each other and could converge. Good grief. What would happen then?"

"We think it possible that you could find yourself existing more than once on the same Time Path. And history as we understand it would effectively cease to exist because the past would become as fluid as the present and as uncertain as the future. In a word, it would be Chaos."

.

After a moment of silence, Hermione looked around. "Which of these clocks—if any—is showing the correct time? The correct time for the rest of the Ministry, I mean?"

Hector gave a faint smile and indicated a simple round wall clock with a plain face and large black numbers. "This one displays current British Summer Time, Minister."

Hermione glanced at it. "I have to go. I've already postponed a scheduled meeting with a representative from M.A.S.E. I can't keep them waiting any longer."

"Mace, Minister?" enquired Hector.

"The Magical Alliance of Southeast Europe," Harry told him. "That sounds serious."

"I need to know what's going on over there," said Hermione. "If giant cows are going to invade the British Isles, I want to be prepared. I'm leaving this Time-Turner business with you, Harry. For goodness' sake, get the thing back."

Harry grunted assent. "Let's hope Nott hasn't given the Time-Turner to his father yet. I'll go to Wizarding Resources now and find out where he's living. I'll need a warrant."

"Of course." Hermione took a small square of parchment from a pocket and tapped it with her wand. It expanded into a larger document which she signed with a quill. Then she tapped it again. It rolled obediently up into a neat scroll, and a cord twisted around the middle and tied itself into a tidy bow. She passed it to Harry. "Don't go on your own."

"I'll see if Edward Lupin's available. Hopefully it won't be too difficult."

"Report back to me with your progress please." Hermione looked up at the clock and flicked a springy silver wire that stuck out at the side of it. "An implecto? Is this a Muggle clock?"

"Indeed, Minister," Hector smiled and gave it an affectionate pat. "It is an Atomic clock. Radio controlled. Accurate to within thousandths of a second and never needs adjusting."

.


	4. Act 1, Scene 4: Perhaps a Toy or Two

**.**

 **ACT 1**

 **SCENE IV**

 **PERHAPS A TOY OR TWO**

 **.**

Harry rarely pulled rank over other Ministry employees, but this time he had no hesitation in ignoring the mutters of resentment as he pushed to the front of the queue in Wizarding Resources on Level Four. "I need to find Theodore Nott," he said, waving his Ministerial warrant importantly. "It's top priority. I want his home address and his place of work. And I want to know his father's whereabouts too."

"Bear with me, Auror Potter, if you please." A witch with half moon spectacles and inky fingers left her desk and vanished into a back room, returning less than a minute later with an immense book all of eight inches thick hovering in front of her. It dropped on to the desk with a solid thud and a cloud of dust. She held her wand above it and recited an incantation under her breath. The front cover flopped open, and the pages flicked over rapidly, then stopped moving. Harry and the witch both leaned forward to look.

"Nott, Nott," said the witch. "Theodore, yes. Hm. Mr Nott's home and work address are the same. 13B, Knockturn Alley."

"Thanks." Harry's forehead creased. "But isn't that—"

"It appears Mr Nott took over the lease of Borgin and Burkes shop about eight years ago."

"Right. And his father?"

"Let's see. Nott, senior." She waved her wand again. The pages flapped. "Claudius. Ah, yes. Currently residing at St Oswald's Home for Old Witches and Wizards. Upper Flagley, Yorkshire."

"At least he should be easy to find," said Harry. "Thanks." He hurried back to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

.

.

Senior Auror Jewett was hunched over a work bench gingerly dismantling what appeared to be an old radio.

"Looks tricky," said Harry. "Cursed?"

"Good day to you, Head Auror Potter." Auror Jewett gave a casual half-salute. "An auditory persuasion curse. Another relic of the War. Turned up at a Muggle car boot sale and had half a dozen people in police custody before we got hold of it. No fatalities, fortunately. I suspect it has lost some of its potency over the years, but it has still been somewhat taxing. Nearly done now, though. Do you want to see?"

"No need. I could do with a partner for the afternoon. I wonder if Edward Lupin is free?"

"Junior Auror Lupin is currently in the back office writing up a report on banshee trafficking," said Jewett. "He has indicated that he feels wasted on such a mundane activity, so I daresay he will be glad of a change."

.

Harry found Teddy working in his shirt sleeves at a desk squeezed awkwardly into a stuffy gap between a tall filing cabinet and a stack of obsolete brooms. Mouth set in a determined line and hair a lifeless muddy colour, he was scratching away at a parchment. Half a dozen quills were scattered on the floor by his feet. He looked up at Harry's entrance with desperate hope in his eyes.

"Lupin," Harry announced. "You've got a temporary reprieve. I need a partner for a couple of hours."

Teddy's expression brightened, and he jumped to his feet, grabbing his robes from the back of his chair. "Oh Harr— thanks Guv'nor! My brain is turning into porridge here. And these Ministry issue quills are shocking."

"They are," agreed Harry. "Perhaps I'll put you in charge of sourcing a new supplier."

"Of quills? Aw, Harr—Boss, I'm no good at that sort of thing."

"I know," said Harry, "I was joking. It'll have to wait till Percy comes back. He loves stuff like that, Until then, I'm afraid we have to put up with them."

Teddy shrugged his robes on. "So what are we doing, Boss?"

"I've got to find Theo Nott," said Harry. "He's helped himself to some Ministry equipment we need to get back."

"What sort of equipment?"

"Can't say, Lupin. It's top secret and very dangerous. You'll have to content yourself with the knowledge that you're going to save the world."

.

* * *

.

The flaking sign above the window still said, just about legibly: _Borgin & Burke_ _s_ , but a notice on the door informed prospective customers that the shop was _Closed Until Further Notice._ Teddy rubbed at the dirty glass with a sleeve and peered into the shop window. "Blinds are down. Don't look to have been opened for years. But there's a bit of a gap." He pressed his nose against the window and squinted. "It's too dark, I can't see a thing. Do you think he's in there?"

"Who knows." Harry shrugged. "Doesn't matter, we've got a warrant. Let's see how good his security is." He stood on the worn step and pointed his wand. " _Alohomora."_

The door remained securely shut.

"Did you really expect that to work?" asked Teddy. "It's about as effective as a rubber band except against Muggles."

"Nope," said Harry, lifting his wand again, "but it's always worth starting with the simplest solution. " _Aperio."_

There was a gentle click and the door popped off the catch. The two men looked at each other. "That was a bit too easy," said Harry, cautiously pushing the door open. "Be careful of hexes and booby-traps. Ah! Like that!"

Something about the size of a small cat but propelled by thrashing tentacles raced across the floor towards them squeaking loudly and firing bursts of sharp thorns in all directions.

" _Diripio!"_ yelled Teddy jabbing his wand towards it and the thing exploded with a green flash and a cloud of acrid smoke that caught the back of Harry's throat and made his eyes water.

"Good work, Lupin," said Harry blinking and dusting debris from his robes.

"A Veprechaos!" said Teddy and sneezed. "My first one. Glad to practise what I learnt." He sneezed again. "Whoops, here's another! _Diripio!"_

They waited to see if anything else moved, but nothing did, and the two of them edged further into the gloomy shop. The light coming through the open front door revealed a path of dirty footprints leading to the counter, behind which was another door that stood slightly ajar. Wand at the ready, Harry pushed it open into a narrow, windowless passage. " _Lumos."_

A steep, uncarpeted flight of stairs rose to what he guessed was an upstairs flat, and facing him at the end of the short passage was another door. It was locked but a simple " _Alohamora"_ opened it, with a protesting creak, on to a tiny, deeply shaded cobbled yard surrounded by a high, crumbling brick wall with ugly spikes cemented into the top. The yard was empty except for moss and spindly yellow weeds.

Doesn't look as if anyone's been out here for a while," said Teddy. "But it's well overlooked. We could enquire at some of those places." He gestured at numerous nearby buildings with steep pitched slate roofs and blank, irregularly spaced windows.

Harry looked around for a few seconds but saw no movement. "We don't have time," he said and jerked his head back towards the door. "Let's go upstairs."

The flat above the shop was small and contained a bare minimum of shabby furniture: a few books, a kitchen sink filled with dirty crockery, and a tiny cooking range. There was no sign of Theo Nott or any Time-Turner, and after a perfunctory look under the bed and behind the threadbare curtains, Teddy and Harry went back downstairs into the shop.

"What is all this? _Lumos._ " Teddy turned around in a full circle. "There's stuff here I can't even guess at."

Harry shook his head. "Merlin only knows. Nott is some kind of dealer in unusual artefacts, and I expect the stock was included when he took over the lease of the shop. Some of these things haven't been touched in years." He nudged a glass jar aside with his wand, revealing a clean circle in the thick layer of dust.

"Look at that!" Teddy exclaimed. He hooked his wand under a sinister-looking contraption. "Isn't this a Cicatrixilla? Oops!" He pulled his wand away, jumping back as a nozzle popped out of the side of the device and sprayed a jet of something towards him. There was a hiss and a cloud of acrid steam. Several deep scars developed on the floorboard where drops of the fluid had landed. "Blimey! That's nasty."

"Be careful, Lupin," Harry reminded him. "Some of this stuff is dangerous."

"Cor!" Teddy flipped the top off a wooden box with his wand. "I've never seen one of these. A Hand of Gl—"

"Lupin! Harry's warning came a fraction of a second too late. A bony grey hand sprang out of the box and clamped its long fingers to Teddy's face, its palm covering his nose and mouth. Eyes wide with shock and panic, Teddy clawed at it but the thing was stuck fast to his face and he could not get a grip on it, His eyes started to bulge and his skin to darken.

"Teddy! _Relashio!"_ Harry pointed his wand but nothing happened. "Bloody hell! _Invaliscentibus libero!"_

Teddy's attempts to prise the hand away became weaker and he staggered and dropped to his knees.

Harry suppressed his panic and racked his brain. " _Jhangha!"_ The hand jerked and loosened for a second allowing Teddy to gasp once before it tightened its grip again. His eyes were desperate and pleading. " _Jhangha!"_ cried Harry again. The hand twitched enough for Teddy to take another breath, but still it did not let go. Encouraged, Harry dredged another obscure spell from the back of his mind. " _Jhangha!"_ he said and followed it immediately with " _Haetan!"_ The hand made a sucking sound as it released from Teddy's face and fell back into its box. The lid shut with a bang.

Teddy knelt on the floor leaning forward on his hands and knees and gasping for air. Harry allowed a few seconds for his own beating heart to slow before enquiring casually. "All right, Lupin?"

Teddy looked up and nodded, unable to speak. Five—no, six—purple, finger-shaped bruises were already appearing on his cheeks and forehead, dark against his pale skin.

Harry's anxiety was replaced with annoyance. "How long have you been qualified? Eighteen months?"

Teddy nodded again rubbing at his mouth.

"Have you already forgotten everything you learnt in training?"

"No, Boss. Sorry, Boss." Teddy's voice was hoarse. "Won't happen again."

"I should hope not. Can you get up?" Harry offered his hand.

Teddy took it and scrambled to his feet. "Yes, Boss."

"A lot of this is illegal or restricted. Dragon eggs. Unicorn horn." Harry poked at a jar with his wand. "Dried tree pixies, if I'm not mistaken. They're endangered. That alone is worth six months in Azkaban if you don't have a permit. There's plenty here to arrest Nott for. But the thing I'm looking for isn't, and neither is he."

Teddy grunted, gingerly feeling his cheek. "Are you going to tell me what the thing is?"

"I can't. Sorry. I suggest we find Mr Nott's father. Let's go to St Oswald's."

.

* * *

.

St Oswald's Home for Old Witches and Wizards was a stout, square, grey stone building with square windows and a square porch enclosing a bright purple door above which was painted, ' _The best is yet to be'._ Harry and Teddy stepped into a spacious hallway with mauve walls and a thick yellow carpet. To the left, a flight of stairs curved up to the next floor, and in front of them was a gleaming reception desk. Behind the desk, a long corridor lined with brightly coloured doors led away to the interior of the building.

A tall, thin witch wearing a purple and yellow badge identifying her as _Artemisia Finch: Organisational Liaison Co-ordinator_ , approached them. "Are you visiting, gentlemen?"

"Auror business," said Harry showing her his warrant. "We want to see Claudius Nott."

"I'm afraid Mr Nott isn't here." Artemisia Finch leaned over the desk and swivelled the visitor's book around to show Harry the entry. "His son collected him only about half an hour ago." "I don't know when he's expected back." She glanced at Teddy. "Young man, whatever has happened to your face?"

"My face?" said Teddy in alarm. "What's wrong with my face?" He rushed over to where a large gilded mirror hung at the bottom of the wide staircase. "Bloody hell!" he wailed. "Look at me!" He turned round, distraught. "Harry, look at my face!"

"When we're at work," said Harry, "you call me Boss or Chief or Guv'nor. You don't look any worse than usual as far as I can see."

"Sorry, Boss." Teddy screwed his face up in effort as he strained to eradicate the dark bruises, but succeeded only in making them darker and turning his hair an unhealthy shade of green.

"Leave it alone, Lupin," said Harry. "You'll hardly be able to see the marks in six weeks or so."

"Six weeks. _Six weeks?_ Boss! _"_

"I don't give a nargle's fart about your face, Lupin. You're far too vain."

.

"Auror Potter!" called a quavering voice.

Harry's heart sank as he saw an old man tottering towards him supported by a young nurse with striking silver-blue hair. "Amos. How nice to see you! I'm afraid—"

"Don't fob me off again, Auror Potter, I beg you! I have been trying to make an appointment to speak to you for months!"

The silver-haired nurse smiled at Harry, and he was struck by how attractive she was. He smiled back apologetically. "I know, Amos, I'm sorry. My secretary is away on paternity leave."

Amos snorted. "Paternity leave, my backside! Newfangled nonsense. In my day—"

"I understand, but I'm afraid now isn't a good time, I—"

Teddy broke in. "'Ware patronus, Guv'nor, look!"

A shimmering glow near the door materialised into a translucent silver otter. "Harry," it said in Hermione's voice, "Theodore Nott has been apprehended in the Ministry. He is being held in interview room four. Can you get back here as soon as possible."

Harry and Teddy exchanged glances. "Bloody hell!" muttered Teddy. "So we've been wasting our time here?"

"Looks like it," said Harry. "But what in Hades was he doing at the Ministry? We'd better get over there."

"But Mr Potter!"

"Sorry Amos. Urgent business. Put it in writing!" He spun round and hurried for the door. "Lupin!"

"Before we go, Boss, can I just—"

"No, Lupin, you may not ask that nurse to go out with you. Do it in your own time."

.

* * *

.

Harry remembered Theo Nott as a skinny, lugubrious teenager, and now he was a skinny, lugubrious man. His feet and hands seemed too large for his frame and his shoulders sloped away from a long neck where a prominent Adam's apple wobbled below a receding chin.

"Mr Nott. How delightful to meet you again after all this time. You'll no doubt be interested to know that we have visited your business premises today."

Nott's Adam's apple bobbed. "Ah."

"There'll be plenty of time to go through all the paperwork later," Harry added cheerfully. "I'm sure all your licenses are in order. Now, however, I'm curious about why you were so keen to get hold of a Time-Turner."

Nott swallowed nervously. "A . . . Time-Turner?"

Harry poked his wand under Nott's chin, forcing his face up. "Don't come the innocent with me, sunshine. I suggest you tell me what you've been up to. Because if I have to resort to Veritaserum or any other expensive, troublesome and time-consuming interrogation techniques, I daresay I shall take the opportunity to seek answers to a number of other difficult questions at the same time. Or," he added as if the idea had just occurred to him, "unpleasant for me as it is, we could try a little legilimency. I'm sure you've nothing to hide." Harry found the process of legilimency akin to swimming through cold frogspawn and it would be a last resort, but Nott didn't know that and shrank away shaking his head violently.

"I'll ask you again," said Harry. "Why did you want a Time-Turner?"

Theo Nott coughed and rubbed at his chin. "Yes, well. Initially I was merely curious. Such things are of great interest to me, and of course I had never had the opportunity to see—much less handle—a Time-Turner. My interest was purely academic, I assure you. But I happened to mention the device to my father and . . . well, the idea took root in his mind and he has spoken of nothing else for weeks."

"Your father resides in St Oswald's, I believe? Is he in poor health?"

Nott nodded. "My father—you must understand—before the war, he was powerful, energetic, charismatic. Afterwards, he was never the same. His injuries were neglected for too long. The damage could not be repaired, and he lost both hands. Obviously he had artificial hands. Fine ones, custom made. But he was never without pain. Always angry."

"Why was he so interested in the Time-Turner?"

"He—" Nott studied his fingers. "He has had the notion in his head for years. He seemed to think that Lucius had one."

"Lucius Malfoy?"

Nott nodded. "There were rumours that Lucius had somehow obtained a Time-Turner during the war. He always denied it, of course. But no one would have been surprised. He was a collector of such rarities. Indeed over the years, he has purchased—"

Harry interrupted. "Let's stick to Time-Turners, shall we?"

"Oh. Yes. At first, Father said he merely wanted to see the thing! He begged me to take it to St Oswald's and show it to him. He said it was the final wish of a dying man!"

"And you believed him?"

"One always wants to believe one's own father, Auror Potter."

"I suppose so," Harry admitted. "So you went to the Time Room and stole the Time-Turner."

"Borrowed, merely! Erasmus had shown it to me. I knew where he kept it. Very little is locked away in there."

"Mm," said Harry. "I don't suppose they expect people to steal clocks. So you took it to St Oswald's to show your father. And did he only want to look at it?"

Nott shook his head and fixed his gaze on his knees. "He insisted I explain how to use it. I told him over and over again how it was not possible to change one's own Time-Path but he refused to listen."

"Then you brought him here to the Ministry? Why did you do that and where is he now?"

"My father is a difficult man to resist. He talked about wanting to see the place again before he died. I took him to the Hall of Prophecies. There are often visitors there. No one paid us any attention. I made the mistake of allowing him to handle the machine, believing that his artificial hands would not allow him the dexterity to activate the device. I was wrong." Nott's lip trembled. "I was also wrong to think that my father would not harm his own son. He stunned me, and when I came round he was gone."

"Gone! Gone where?"

"I believe his intention was to go back to just before the point at which he sustained his injuries, in order to prevent it happening."

Harry rubbed his forehead. "Is this a long-winded way of telling me your idiot father has actually used the thing?"

Nott's silence was all the answer he needed.

"You will remain in custody for the foreseeable future," said Harry. "Now I'll have to see if we can sort out what is likely to be an almighty mess. Don't think you've heard the last of this."

.


	5. Act 1, Scene 5: Sometimes for an Hour

**.**

 **ACT 1**

 **SCENE V**

 **SOMETIMES FOR AN HOUR OR SO**

 **.**

Hector and Erasmus were standing in front of the Tabula Temporum talking to each other in low, urgent murmurs. They were taking it in turns to peer at the map through a device like a short, stubby telescope. Erasmus turned as Harry approached. "Auror Potter. I take it you are aware that the missing Time-Turner has been utilised?"

"I am. I suppose the device is beyond reach now. Can you tell where— _when—_ he has taken it?"

"As it happens, yes," said Erasmus. "Because this particular Time-Turner is somewhat unstable, it releases a . . . wake . . . of particles which will remain detectable to us for about sixty minutes. We can pinpoint the _when_ quite precisely using the Chronocular." He indicated the telescope-like object he held. "What we cannot do, of course, is identify the _where_. The Time-Turner moves only in time, not in space."

"And that _when_ is—?"

"It appears to be June of 1996." He handed the Chronocular to Harry. "See for yourself."

Harry screwed the end into his eye socket and peered through the device, seeing thin crosshairs in the lens but only fuzzy shadows beyond it.

"Allow me." Erasmus guided Harry's hand to the other end of the Chronocular and twisted it. "Focus it here."

Harry exclaimed in surprise as the map came into view again. This time as Harry paused the Chronocular over the flowing Time Path, a date appeared at the point where the crosshairs met. As he moved the Chronocular and paused at a different point, another date appeared. A trail of faint golden specks flickered against the direction of the flow, and he followed it to what looked like a tiny, spiralling golden whirlpool.

"Auror Potter." Erasmus tugged at his collar as if it were too tight. "The idea of such an unstable device bouncing around backwards and forwards all over the past, creating new Time-Paths and causing multiple disruptions to the flow of Time is terrifying. We could find ourselves face to face with . . . well, _ourselves_! If Mr Nott creates a new Time-Path, there is no guarantee that it will stay separate from our own. It could even bring"—He lowered his voice—" _You-Know-Who_ back into our own Path!"

"Voldemort," said Harry automatically. "His name was Voldemort. But what can we do?"

Erasmus looked shifty. "If—theoretically of course—you were to obtain another Time-Turner—"

"But there is no other Time-Turner!" Harry intercepted a speaking glance between Erasmus and Hector. "Is there _?"_

Without answering, Erasmus took a few steps to the large carved cupboard that partially concealed the portrait gallery and opened the doors, revealing an intricate arrangement of cogs,wheels, pulleys, and weights. He picked something up from the base and held it out towards Harry.

Harry stared at it without attempting to touch it. "Merlin's teeth! You had another Time-Turner and didn't say? You really do want to go back to Azkaban don't you?"

Erasmus shook his head. "But we did not have it, Auror Potter."

"What? You're not making sense! Where did you get it then?"

"This cupboard holds the Aurora Borealis Activity Recorder. It is opened and checked every single morning without fail. I found this Time-Turner in it today. It was not here when I opened it yesterday morning."

Harry looked at Hector incredulously. "It can't have just materialised! Someone must have put it there!"

"Perhaps." Hector sounded doubtful.

Harry took the Time-Turner from Erasmus's outstretched hand and examined it. It was an ornate device, heavy, with several outer rings made mostly of gold as far as he could tell, and studded with precious stones. When he looked closely he could see that the jewels were set into a continuous, serpentine shape that ran right around the outer ring. "I've never seen a Time-Turner like this. Why does it look familiar?"

Hector smiled faintly. "It does appear to bear a remarkable similarity to the illustration in Augusta Twigg's journal."

"You're right, it does. How odd!"

"Erasmus thinks it is a very refined model," Hector added.

"It is," said Erasmus. "The dials indicate it can travel back in time just as far. Further! But this one does not have the disadvantage of automatically returning to the point of departure."

"Can we set this to follow the other Time-Turner and find Nott?" asked Harry.

Erasmus nodded. "In theory. A theory we have never tested, of course. In order to keep to this Time-Path and avoid the creation of another, you would need to know exactly how the events which Mr Nott seeks to alter should happen."

"According to Theo," said Harry, "his father's point of departure was the Hall of Prophecies here in the Ministry. Theo believes his father has travelled to the point just before he sustained the injury he believes ruined his life. The night Voldemort returned and Sirius Black fell through the Veil." Harry indicated the _Tabula Temporum_. "He's gone back to the battle at the Department of Mysteries!"

Erasmus's finger hovered over the disturbance on the map. "This appears consistent with what you say. In which case you should also return to that point and retrieve the device from him before he can change anything. Before he takes the Time-Turner forward on another Time-Path. You were there, were you not, Auror Potter? So you know how events need to play out."

"But I don't," said Harry. "Not really. I mean I was in the vicinity but everything was really confused. I don't know what Lucius and the other Death Eaters were up to."

"Is there someone else who might know? Who could go with you?"

Harry raked his hands through his hair, barely feeling his usual alarm at the amount that fell out. "I don't know! Ron I suppose, but he won't even remember as much as me. Nor will Hermione. And the Minister can hardly go gallivanting off into the past in any case. Kingsley was there of course! Yes, I wonder if I can find Kingsley. So I've got an hour to find him and get back here?"

Hector's wrinkled forehead creased even more. "I'm afraid not, Auror Potter. The trail first appeared twenty minutes ago. You have forty minutes before it disappears."

.

Harry unfolded the memo that had just landed on his desk. _Regret former Minister Shacklebolt in Caribbean and currently out of contact._

His heart sank and he buried his head in his hands. He had just over half an hour left and Hermione was starting to look like his best option after all. Wasn't there anyone else? He looked up at the portraits, contemplating asking for advice but he was reluctant. They were an argumentative bunch, his predecessors. Generally quarrelsome and opinionated, they had been known to maintain ill-tempered disagreements with each other for days. He noticed the canvas that usually held Harriet Vane (Head of Department: 1934-52) was blank. Its occupant must be visiting another painting somewhere else. A recollection of the blank canvas in the house at Grimmauld Place popped into his mind; the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. "What a clodwoppet I am."

.

.

The late summer sky was grey and the air hung heavy and warm. Harry stamped his feet, wiggling his toes to release the cramp that apparition usually gave him these days. A new wrought metal knocker in the shape of a dog's head hung on the sturdy door. Harry lifted it and let it drop back with a thud. Inside the building, a dog barked and after a few seconds, the door opened.

"Harry! What a surprise! Come on in."

The middle aged woman who had answered the door had steel-grey hair cut into a fashionable spiky style and wore bright red lipstick. She stood aside to let him into the shady, low-beamed sitting room. A huge dog trotted out from the back of the house and thrust a damp nose into Harry's hand.

"Hello, Albie, old boy." Harry scratched the dog's neck and bent to give the woman a kiss on the cheek. "How are you, Julia? You're looking very well."

"I am well," she said, "and so is Simon." She waved him towards an armchair. "He's in the garden. I'll put the kettle on and give him a shout. Make yourself comfy."

Harry settled back into the squashy cushions. The room was cool, protected from the summer heat by thick walls and small leaded glass windows. A soft floral scent drifted from a porcelain bowl of potpourri on a small table at his side. He checked the time on the mantel clock, which was an old-looking thing with a brass pineapple mounted on the top.

"Hello stranger!" Simon ducked his head under the lintel as he came in, his hand outstretched, and Harry stood to greet him. He shook Harry's hand firmly, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good to see you. To what do we owe the honour?"

Julia came through with a tray and put it on a wide footstool in front of the fireplace. She started to pour the tea.

"How's Megan?" Harry asked, sitting down again. "I thought she might be here. I haven't seen her for ages. Must be eighteen months."

"She's about to start the last year of her astrophysics degree," said Julia, "but she's spending the summer at Hogwarts, studying with Firenze. We hardly see her these days." She paused, the teapot still in her hand. "I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again. We really are very grateful that you took her for all those extra lessons. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. It was a genuine pleasure to work with her."

"It didn't do her credibility with the other students any harm," said Simon grinning. "Private tuition from the legendary Saviour of the Wizarding World."

"That's very funny," said Harry. "Anyway, has she got a boyfriend yet?"

"A boyfriend! Don't be ridiculous," said Simon. "She's too young to think about that." He dropped on to the sofa and stretched his legs out.

Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise and he couldn't think of anything to say in response to something so completely unreasonable.

"For heaven's sake, Simon," sighed Julia handing him a mug. "She's twenty-three."

Simon looked like thunder. Julia turned back to Harry, "I don't think she has got a boyfriend"—she glanced sideways at Simon—"Though she does seem very fond of the centaur. I don't see how that would work though. Logistically, as it were." She held out a plate. "Have a scone."

"A centaur!" exclaimed Simon. "That's an obscene suggestion, Julia! What are you thinking?"

Just as he took a bite of his scone, Harry made the fatal mistake of catching Julia's eye. He failed to control his mirth and sprayed a mouthful of crumbs over his robes.

Simon scowled and tugged at his whiskers. "Who'd have thought having a daughter would be so worrisome? I don't know what you're laughing at, Harry. You've got all this to come. Wait until Lily gets a boyfriend."

Harry abruptly stopped laughing. What a preposterous idea! Disconcerted, he brushed crumbs off his sleeve and Albie delicately licked them from the floor.

"How are Ginny and the children?" asked Julia, sitting down on the sofa beside Simon. "Does Lily still want to go riding? You'll have to get a move on if she does, they'll be back at school any day, won't they?"

"I could bring her for an hour or two tomorrow," said Harry.

"Yes, do. That old pony of Megan's is getting far too fat."

"Ginny's fine," added Harry, "And so's James as far as I can tell from the little I see of him. But Albus . . . well, frankly we're worried about him."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Oh." Harry leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on the low, beamed ceiling. "He's so unhappy. Says he hates school. And me. And he's far too friendly with the Malfoy boy. It's not healthy."

"Sounds like me at that age," said Simon. "Were you very disappointed when he was placed in Slytherin?"

"Of course not!" Harry's protest sounded a little too emphatic even to himself. "I was surprised of course. But Albus seems convinced that I'm disappointed in him, no matter how much I tell him I'm not. And he's so resentful about being my son. As if there's anything I can do about that! But"—Harry sat forward in his seat—"I wonder—sorry, Jules, but this isn't altogether a social visit. I need to speak to Simon. Privately. Ministry business. Rather urgent."

Julia raised her eyebrows and began to get to her feet, but Simon pulled her down again. "I can't imagine what sort of Ministry business has anything to do with me," he said, "but you can say it in front of Julia. You needn't worry about her discretion, you know that."

"No of course not, I didn't mean to imply—but it's a bit . . . sensitive."

Simon folded his arms and leaned back on the sofa, looking at Harry, his eyes sharp under half-closed lids. Julia started to chew at her thumbnail.

"I need some help. Very specific help." Harry took his glasses off and polished them vigorously then put them back on. "I need someone who was at the Department of Mysteries the night—you know."

Julia made a tiny sound of discomfort. Simon remained silent, waiting.

"Do you remember much about it?" asked Harry.

"Maybe," said Simon cautiously.

"Did you see Claudius Nott there?"

Simon nodded. "I did. I practically fell over him. He was injured. His hands, I think."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "We believe Nott is attempting to prevent that injury happening."

"Attempting to _what?_ You've lost me."

Harry drew a deep breath. "Claudius Nott has managed to get his very fine, custom-made artificial hands on a Time-Turner."

Simon blinked.

Julia gasped. "A—Time-Turner? But there aren't any. Are there? And they only go a few hours back anyway."

"That's what we thought too," admitted Harry, "but there's always someone who thinks the rules don't apply to them."

"Ah." The corner of Simon's mouth twitched.

"We're pretty sure Nott has travelled back to that night. That wouldn't necessarily be a problem in itself. Not for us anyway. But this particular Time-Turner is somewhat unstable. It has a tendency to disrupt the . . . flow? And I'm told the consequences of an unstable Time-Turner bouncing around in the past don't bear thinking about."

Simon grunted. "Time and place maintain a fine balance. I like to think I know a bit about it."

"Well perhaps you'd like to discuss it with Hector at your leisure. He'd be very interested I'm sure. But now I need to find Nott and get the damn thing back. And I only have"—Harry nodded towards the clock on the mantelpiece—"is that right?"

"More or less."

"I only have about twenty minutes to do it in."

"Twenty minutes!"

"Yes," said Harry. "And I need you to come with me."

Julia squeezed the bridge of her nose. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were intending to follow Nott back in time."

Harry looked into his mug.

"No," she breathed. "Oh no. Harry, tell me this is some sort of joke."

Still staring at the dregs of his tea, Harry shook his head.

"Really, Harry?" Simon sounded excited.

"It's not a game!" exclaimed Julia. "Even I know you shouldn't bugger about with things like that."

"I know, I know," said Simon patting Julia's knee reassuringly. "But, well! Time travel. I've never done that before."

"And you're not going to do it now. Is he, Harry?"

"There isn't anyone else, Jules," said Harry.

"That's ridiculous. There must be!"

Simon frowned at Julia. "I'll fight my own battles if you don't mind." He cleared his throat. "Why me?"

"I need someone who remembers exactly how things happened," said Harry. "And we need to keep this under wraps. It's—to be frank, it's dynamite, and I'm reluctant to let anyone else at the Ministry know. Of the other people who were at the Department of Mysteries that night—those who weren't Death Eaters that is—Kingsley's the only one who might know what we need, but he's keeping his head down somewhere in the Caribbean."

"If I understand you right," said Simon, "we have to intercept Nott, prevent him from doing anything that would change the course of events, retrieve the Time-Turner, and bring it safely back?"

"Is that all?" Julia's voice was deeply sceptical. "Sounds perfectly simple. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Don't worry," said Harry, "we know what we're doing."

She jumped to her feet. "Rubbish! You don't know at all. You're making it up as you go along!"

Harry shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and Simon looked impassive.

"Does Ginny know about this?" she demanded.

Harry bit his lip. "Hector and Erasmus in the Time Room know. Nobody else does, not even Hermione."

Julia switched her attention to Simon. "You want to go, don't you? I can tell."

He was silent but the colour in his cheeks betrayed his excitement, and he didn't meet her gaze. At last he said. "Are you asking me not to?"

"I've got a bad feeling about it."

"Don't be silly, Julia. You're not Megan! You worry too much."

"Well one of us has to," she said.

"Jules, it'll be fine, honestly," said Harry. "The whole point of doing this is to make sure nothing changes. Nothing at all. We'll be really careful, I promise."

She faced Simon. "Do you promise too?"

"Of course I do. I will be careful."

"Promise!"

"I promise."

Julia glared at him, her face pale and angry. "I don't believe you. You don't even know what you're doing. So how can you make that promise?" She turned away, brushing at her cheek. "Albie! Walk!" A few seconds later, the back door slammed.

Simon looked at Harry. "I haven't got time to go after her, have I?"

"Sorry, mate," said Harry. "We need to get a move on."

"All right. I'll buy her something nice afterwards. Flowers," said Simon. "She likes flowers. She worries too much, you know, but she'll forgive me. She always does in the end." He indicated the last scone. "Are you going to eat that?"

Harry shook his head regretfully. "Better not. I'm supposed to be watching my weight."

"You won't mind if I have it then?"

"Be my guest."

"Excellent. Julia is trying to ration me."

"Oh. How's that going?"

"As well as you'd expect." Simon brushed crumbs off his beard and shoved his wand into the belt loops at the back of his jeans. "Ready?"

.


	6. Act 1, Scene 6: The Dog and the Plough

**ACT I**

 **SCENE 6**

 **THE DOG AND THE PLOUGH AND THE HUNTER AND ALL**

 **.**

Simon and Harry apparated into a gloomy narrow side street near the Ministry. It stank of the rotting food that had spilled around the bases of big, wheeled refuse bins. Simon grimaced. "Classy camouflage."

"I'm taking you through the visitors' entrance," said Harry. "People will be curious about you otherwise. And I don't think you'd want that."

"You think right," agreed Simon.

"Do you remember how this works?" Harry indicated one of two old-fashioned telephone boxes tucked against a shaded wall. The red paint was faded to dirty pink and moss was growing in the corners of the panes of glass. A dog-eared ' _Out of Order_ ' sign was stuck on the door and a distinct odour of urine lingered in the air.

"I do if it's still the same as it was thirty-odd years ago. Two-four-six-six?"

"It hasn't changed," said Harry. " _If it ain't broke don't fix it,_ as we wizards like to say. I'll go in here. You take the other one. Tell them you're on Auror business."

The receptionist gave Simon's wand a cursory glance and seemed to find nothing untoward. "I hardly need to see your wand, Auror Potter!" she tittered and waved them through.

"Security as tight as ever, I see," said Simon under his breath. "And it looks exactly the same. A lick of paint might be nice." He viewed the grubby, pale green walls with disdain. "It was the colour of troll pee twenty-four years ago, and it's still the colour of troll pee now."

"I don't care to know how you come by this information," said Harry. "But since when have you been interested in interior design?"

"Since I have found it makes Julia happy for me to take an interest," said Simon. "And I have excellent taste."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," said Harry. "But any suggestion of updating anything in here meets with howls of protest." He put on a complaining falsetto voice. "But it's always been like that! It's _traditional!_ "

Simon wrinkled his nose. "Don't you think that fountain's a bit smelly?"

"What?" Harry sniffed. "I hadn't noticed."

"There's this thing Muggles use in swimming pools," said Simon. "Chlorine, it's called."

"I know what bloody chlorine is," said Harry. "Will you behave?" He pointed towards the lift. "Let's get down to the Time Room."

.

.

In the unforgiving light from the bell jar, Simon's face looked ghost-like: the skin almost translucent over his skull. He watched the tiny bird flutter to the top of the jar and fall down again. "How often does it do that, do you think?" he asked. "About twelve times an hour? Every hour of every day? You'd think it'd be bored by now. Or someone might have taken pity and let it out."

"Don't even think about it," warned Harry. "I'm beginning to wish I hadn't brought you. Follow me." He led Simon through the main chamber to where Hector and Erasmus were intent on the Tabula Temporum, taking it in turns to peer through the Chronocular.

"This is Mr Grey," said Harry without preamble. "He will be accompanying me."

"Mr Grey? Ah, but of course. Delighted to make your acquaintance." Hector's watery eyes were sharp enough to cause Harry slight disquiet, but he did not ask any questions. "Gentlemen, to coin an overused phrase, time is very short. Mr Grey, I take it Auror Potter has explained the situation to your satisfaction?"

"He has indeed."

Erasmus twisted the Chronocular around in his hands. "the single greatest risk you run to your own well-being is that of being seen by your past selves."

"It can make you go mad can't it?" said Harry. "People have been attacked and murdered?"

"The madness is apocryphal," said Erasmus. "A cautionary tale. As for being attacked—no, that cannot happen."

"Can't it?" said Harry. "Why?"

"Because if your past self sees your future self, the future you"—Erasmus gestured at Harry—" _this_ 'you'—will cease to exist. You will not return on this, or any other, Time-Path."

"Cease to exist!" Harry stared at Erasmus and shivered. "But that's not right. It can't be."

"What do you mean?"Auror Potter?" asked Hector.

"Well, I . . . I saw myself when I used a Time-Turner before. And I'm still here."

"Ah, you are referring to the occasion of your rescue of . . . the hippogriff, are you not? There was quite some distance between your two selves was there not?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose so. At least a hundred yards."

Erasmus nodded in satisfaction. "The limited experiments we have been able to conduct indicate that The Life-Wyrd extends some nine feet or so from the physical body."

"The Life-Wyrd." Harry sighed. "Have we got time for this?"

"Not really, Auror Potter. Suffice it to say that if two identical Wyrd touch, the older one is immediately absorbed into the newer, stronger one. Rather like two droplets of water coming into contact with each other."

"And they can't be separated again?"

"No more than drops of water can."

Simon was impassive. "So there's a limit of about eighteen feet? We'd better be careful, hadn't we?"

"The other risk, of course," said Hector, "and rather more likely to happen, is that you allow or instigate a change that sets you on a new Time-Path in which case we will not see you again here. To your families and friends it will be as if you were dead. But without any . . . remains."

Harry swallowed. "I'm Head Auror. It's a risky job. They know that."

"And you, Mr Grey?" asked Hector.

"Me? Oh. I like to live on the edge."

"Hm." Hector nodded. "I daresay you do. Very well."

Erasmus took over again. "The Time-Turner does not, of course, transport you geographically. You will be in the same place as you are when you activate the device. There are specific exceptions to this,but they need not concern you at the moment."

That was the first Harry had heard of such a thing. "Needn't they? What are the exceptions then?"

"Oh!" Erasmus seemed surprised to be asked. "There are a few non-geographical locations. The Flying Dutchman for example—you'll have heard of that?"

"The ghost ship? It's not real is it?"

"But of course it is. If you were to board the ship and use a Time-Turner, you would remain on board the ship even if it was on the other side of the world."

"Useful to know," said Harry drily.

"And closer to home of course," said Erasmus as if it had just occurred to him, "the Knight Bus operates on the same principles. And certain beings are not confined to a single Time-Path, but observe alternate paths simultaneously." He stepped over to the large carved cabinet and opened it.

"Certain beings?" asked Harry.

"Ghosts, Auror Potter," Hector broke in. "Those spirits who resisted death find themselves not truly in any one world or on any one path."

Erasmus returned to them with the Time-Turner resting in his cupped hands. "Here is the device you will be using."

Without asking permission, Simon took it, leaving Erasmus looking disconcerted and rather indignant.

"That's a quality bit of kit," said Simon holding it up to the light. "Welsh gold I think. Set with garnets in a subtle design of the Ourobouros."

"Quite so, Mr . . . Grey," said Hector. He caught Simon's sleeve and said in a rush, "When this little matter has been settled, I wonder if we might have a longer talk—privately?"

The corner of Simon's mouth twitched. "I don't see why not." He passed the Time-Turner back to Erasmus. "You'd better show us how to use the thing."

.

When Erasmus was satisfied that Harry and Simon had grasped the purpose of the various dials and understood the operating instructions, he handed it to Harry. "You must remember not to allow the two Time-Turners to come into direct contact with each other."

"What will happen if they do?" said Harry.

"We do not know, but we suspect that the repulsion between the two devices would cause some sort of Time Vortex."

"Bloody hell," said Harry. "Good job you mentioned it then. We'll take one each. Anything else we should know?"

"Indeed there are." Erasmus rummaged inside his robes and pulled out a small notebook. "My—er, the other—Time-Turner has a minimum setting of five minutes use before it automatically returns. I am not sure whether Theodore's father is aware of this or knows how to adjust the device."

"Well," Harry pointed out, "he didn't return five minutes after he left, did he?"

"Not on this Time-Path, Auror Potter. No he did not."

"Ah. Of course."

Erasmus opened his notebook to a page of diagrams. "You will see"—he tapped a drawing of his prototype—"mine is of a different design to the one you are holding. It has a dial on the side." He pointed. "The maximum setting is an hour. I suggest that when you retrieve it—Merlin willing!—you ensure the device is set to its full extent."

"That means we'll come back an hour after we left?"

"No, Auror Potter, you will return an hour after the _device_ left. In about ten minutes from now. Any sooner than that and you risk returning before you left. Which would likely cause all sorts of awkward paradoxes."

"I suppose it would."

"I believe you have all the information we can give you." Erasmus closed his book. "There is no time to be lost. Where do you need to be?"

Harry looked at Simon. "Can you remember where you saw Claudius Nott after he had been injured?"

Simon pursed his lips and nodded. "It must have been in the Hall of Prophecies. We followed Kingsley through the Time Room here. Claude was on the other side of that door over there. I think his hands had been trapped when it shut. He was out of commission. We left him where he was."

"You should make haste," said Hector. He gestured towards the entrance to the Hall of Prophecies. "There is, ah . . . no Time to lose."

Erasmus held the door open for Harry and Simon. "How I envy you. This is such a great adventure, Auror Potter! Not without peril of course, but . . . I am sure you will both return safely."

.


	7. Act 1 Scene 7: I See Him Jump

**ACT I**

 **SCENE VII**

 **I SEE HIM JUMP BEFORE ME**

.

The Hall of Prophecies was always cold. The dim blue light gave the impression of constant night and left the upper reaches of the place in complete darkness. The air seemed to move as if something huge was breathing high above. Goosebumps broke out on Harry's arms even under his warm robes.

"Where shall we start?" asked Simon. He looked up at the nearest rack of shelves. "This is row twelve."

"The action all happened at the end of row ninety-seven," said Harry. "Better head that way." He pointed.

Part way along row eighty, they stopped. "I think this is near enough," said Harry. "We don't want to land in the middle of a bunch of Death-Eaters." He wiggled the outer rings of the time Turner. "Look at all these settings. I've never seen a Time Turner with so many. I wonder what else it can do? Here." He passed it to Simon who shivered. "Simon?" Harry was unexpectedly reminded that Simon was not a young man.

"I'm fine. Just had that feeling, you know. When they say someone walked over your grave?" Simon rotated the two outer rings of the device and showed Harry. "I think that's right?"

"Here we go, then." Harry pressed his middle finger to the top of the central hourglass and flicked it sharply into a rapid spin and felt himself spinning with it, nauseatingly faster than he could have believed possible. He and Simon twisted into each other as if the two of them were rags someone had wrung together. And then, with a jolt, it stopped. His lungs were bursting.

Simon was beside him, leaning down with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. "Ugh! That was horrible. Are we there? It doesn't look any different."

"Ah!" Harry clutched his head as a terrible pain he had not felt for over twenty years stabbed into his scar. He stumbled.

"Harry!" Simon caught him and steadied him. "What's wrong?"

"It's—Merlin! We are where we meant to be! Voldemort is close by!"

"Are you all right? You can feel him again?"

Harry took some deep breaths, "Yes, but I'm getting used to it. Have you got the Time-Turner safe?"

"Of course." Simon patted his pocket. "I can hear a bit of a kerfuffle. Let's get nearer."

.

They inched cautiously towards the activity and peered round a rack to see a couple of Death Eaters, wands out and pointed, making their way towards the far end of the aisle.

"They're wearing masks!" muttered Harry in despair. "How will we know which one is Claudius Nott? Bugger!" He clenched his fist in frustration.

"Nott!" one of the masked Death Eaters said to the other, "take aisle ninety-six. If you see any of the children, incapacitate them only! The Dark Lord wants the Potter boy alive and the prophecy intact."

"That's how," whispered Simon winking at Harry. "He's the taller one."

They crept along the neighbouring aisle to a gap between the shelves where they could better see the two Death Eaters. They were not the only observers. "Look," Simon whispered, pointing through the opening. "There's our Claude. Let's say hello." He squeezed sideways between the racks into the next row, followed by Harry.

"Glad I didn't eat that last scone," Harry muttered.

"Sh." Simon put his finger to his lips.

.

Intent on the events playing out a few yards away, the old man was oblivious to everything else and did not hear them approaching from behind.

"Well, well, Claude," said Simon softly over Nott's shoulder. "Fancy seeing you here."

The man gave a little cry and turned in shock, glaring at him from dark, hooded eyes. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Don't you recognise me, Claude?"

"No, I—no! Merlin! You can't be! You're dead!"

"Indeed." Simon smiled. His voice was genial. "And yet here I am. Fancy. And here you are. And"—he pointed—"there you are too. And what would happen if—" He grabbed a prophecy sphere from a shelf, raised his voice and shouted, "Claudius!"

"What!" Nott hissed. "You're mad! What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? Why, _this._ Claude!" he shouted again and shoved the older Nott hard towards his younger self who turned to see what the disturbance was. At the same moment, Simon smashed the prophecy onto the floor at his feet. It shattered in a cloud of pink smoke, and a cloudy image appeared in the air. A stream of unintelligible words echoed loosely for several seconds, then gradually dispersed around them.

.

Simon pulled Harry round the end of the rack out of sight, and they crouched motionless, watching from between the shelves. The younger Nott gave an exclamation of alarm; then as the image from the prophecy faded into mist, Harry saw him hurrying away towards the other Death Eaters. There was a clinking noise, and Harry looked down to see the Time-Turner rolling gently past the end of the aisle where they were hiding. He reached out, seized it, and shoved it deep into the pocket of his robes.

Some forty or so yards away there was shouting and crashing and the crackle of spells. Clouds of smoke could be seen drifting above the racks and flashes of coloured light flickered between the rows. Ghostly disembodied echoes could be heard all around.

" _Reducto!"_ several young voices shouted in unison. There was an ominous creaking, and the top of one of the vast racks of shelves rocked and then toppled. As it fell, it took two other racks with it like gigantic dominoes. Harry and Simon retreated a couple of rows further back. There was more distant shouting. Harry recognised his own voice yelling, "Run!" and Hermione shouting, " _Stupefy!"_

He tensed with the recollection, and Simon gripped his shoulder. "It all worked out in the end, remember," he whispered. "Hold your nerve. We need to see what's going on. Keep out of sight."

The Death Eaters were running back down the aisle between the tall shelves with Claudius Nott in the lead. As he dashed for the heavy door, Hermione cried, " _Colloportus!"_ and it started swinging shut. Instinctively, Nott grabbed at the edge of the door and tried to stop it closing, but he had misjudged the weight and momentum. There was a heavy clunk, a squelch, and a scream of agony.

"What an exquisite sound," murmured Simon appreciatively.

An imperious voice carried through the cavernous hall. "Leave him! His injuries are as nothing compared to what the Dark Lord will do if we fail to retrieve the prophecy! This way." The group turned and hurried off in another direction. In a few seconds they were gone, and there was only the sound of Nott's desperate whimpering.

"We need to check the settings on Erasmus's Time-Turner," Simon reminded Harry.

Harry took the device out of his pocket and looked at the dial. The inner ring was clicking slowly in a clockwise direction, half-second by half-second.

"Nott had set it for twenty minutes." He turned the outer dial anti-clockwise until it stopped. "That's as far as it will go. We've got a bit of a wait. Unless you want to go back now with the other Time-Turner, and I'll follow later. I suppose we'll actually arrive back at about the same time."

Simon's face was alight with excitement. "What! Go now, while things are getting interesting?"

Harry saw something of the old recklessness and felt a prickle of unease. There was a sound beyond the door where Nott was trapped.

Simon slid behind a shelf, pulling Harry with him. They could no longer see what was happening but heard the door opening and a slight scuffle followed by another scream and what Harry assumed was the sound of the freed Nott sliding to the floor. Footsteps ran away to the other end of the chamber and faded from earshot. "Come on," Simon whispered. "Let's follow."

"Do we need to?" said Harry. "We've got the Time-Turner. All we have to do is stay put and wait."

"You really didn't inherit your dad's sense of adventure, did you?" teased Simon. "I'm curious. Humour an old man. They'll be getting to the Death Chamber about now. Let's take a look.

.

.

The battle was already in full swing as they sidled in through the door from the Brain Room and, crawled into a dark corner behind a pillar near the top of the chamber. Mad-Eye Moody was duelling a masked Death Eater on one of the lower tiers of benches. Further up, Kingsley was fighting two more. Flashes and explosions from elsewhere among the steep, tiered benches sent dangerous splinters of stone flying through the air in all directions. A sliver caught Harry on the cheek, but he hardly noticed.

Tonks was halfway up the bank of tiers, duelling Bellatrix who was further down. Harry saw a Death Eater aiming his wand at her from behind and winced helplessly, but someone shot a spell at the attacker, and sent him head over heels into another tier. Harry looked round to see where the spell had come from and saw Sirius running with admirable balance along a row of benches in pursuit.

Down in the middle of the chamber, Neville was on his knees gasping for breath while a Death Eater Harry remembered was Macnair had his arm about young Harry's throat pulling him up so that Harry's toes were scrabbling on the ground. He was holding the prophecy in one hand and struggling to twist his wand backwards in the other.

A shout of " _Crucio!"_ drew Harry's and Simon's attention back to Moody, whose opponent had got the better of him. Moody screamed and lurched sideways, bleeding, but as he fell, he snatched the mask from the Death Eater he had been fighting, revealing Antonin Dolohov's pale features. Dolohov laughed and aimed a vicious kick at Moody's head, knocking out his false eye and sending it skittering down the steps and across the flagstones to where young Harry was flapping helplessly in Macnair's grip.

Neville scrambled to his feet and launched himself towards Harry's attacker, jabbing his wand into the Death Eater's eye. Macnair screamed a high pitched, girlish sound, and released Harry who stumbled as his foot slipped on Moody's eye.

There was a green flash from behind a nearby pillar followed by a cry of pain. Tonks flew through the air, landing with a sickening thud a few feet away from Harry and Simon. She groaned and moved a little, then was motionless. Instinctively Harry started towards her but Simon grabbed him by the robes hissing, "She's all right. Remember!"

Dolohov had jumped down to the bottom tier and was already raising his wand. " _Tarantallegra!"_ he shouted. Neville's legs started to twist and kick convulsively and he fell to the floor as if having a fit. Dolohov raised his wand again, his thin features alight with cruel pleasure.

From opposite Harry and Simon, Sirius vaulted over the tiers, practically bouncing down towards the bottom of the chamber.

"Couldn't do that these days," whispered Simon.

Below them Dolohov raised his wand again, pointing it squarely at young Harry. " _Accio proph—"_

From the second tier, Sirius tackled Dolohov, taking them both to the ground with a yell and a crash. He lifted his head, his arm rigid across the struggling Dolohov's throat. "Take the prophecy and run!" he screamed.

Seeing what was happening, Lucius Malfoy, not wearing a mask, started racing to the bottom of the chamber.

Young Harry helped the still-twitching Neville to his feet, but as the two boys tried to get away, Malfoy lunged at them, and the boys fell over. Malfoy grabbed at Harry who was desperately holding the prophecy in his outstretched arm trying not to drop it. "Neville!" yelled Harry and sent it rolling it across the floor.

Neville snatched the sphere and cradled it against his chest. As Harry scrambled to his feet, Malfoy raised his wand towards Neville, but Harry managed to yell, " _Impedimenta!"_ and Malfoy stumbled. Before he could recover, Remus jumped between him and the boys, shouting, "Harry, get the others and go!"

Neville stuffed the prophecy into his pocket and Harry began to help him up the steps, but still unsteady, Neville trod on the hem of his robes, and the seam split open. The glass ball fell to the floor, and as he tried not to tumble, he accidentally caught it with his foot. The delicate bauble spun through the air and smashed against a step, the tiny noise lost amid the chaos of the battle. A misty figure with big round eyes appeared for a few moments then dissolved.

The air crackled and golden lightning forked overhead. A blaze illuminated the stone tiers.

"It's Dumbledore!" someone shouted.

The figure of the professor was silhouetted against one of the upper doors. Incandescent with fury, he strode down the steps sweeping his wand from side to side, casting jets of bright silver light from one side of the chamber to the other. The Death Eaters started to fall back in noisy confusion.

At the bottom of the steps below the crumbling arch, Sirius, oblivious to what was happening above, was duelling Bellatrix. He was goading her mercilessly, and she was losing control. Her aim was deteriorating with her temper, and she was beginning to stumble. Nimbly, Sirius jumped up on to the stairs on the dais at the front of the arch. Behind him, the darkness moved and drifted. Bellatrix tripped and dropped her wand, which skittered across the flagstones several feet away from her.

Sirius laughed fiercely. And everything seemed to pause.

Harry glanced at Simon and saw his eyes widen with shock. As if in slow motion, Simon lifted his wand and for a horrified second, Harry thought he was about to cast a spell at Bellatrix, but instead he put the end of the ancient wand to his own forehead. At first Harry could not tell what he was doing, and when he did, he couldn't understand why. A strand of silver mist was drifting from Simon's forehead, being pulled into the end of the wand. Below, standing squarely in front of the crumbling arch, Sirius was mocking Bellatrix as he raised his wand and pointed it at her.

Then Simon thrust his wand into Harry's hand saying, "Look after this for me." Then without any sign of hurry or anxiety he spun the fancy golden Time-Turner on its axis. "It's a funny thing," he said, "I was terrible at Quidditch, but I was a shit-hot cricket bowler. And Lucius was quite the fielder. Tell Julia and Megan I'm sorry. Goodbye, Harry."

Screeching in fear and fury Bellatrix grovelled on her knees, scrabbling for her own wand, but there was no way she would get to it before Sirius's spell hit her.

Beside Harry, Simon stood up, shouting, "Lucius!"

"Simon, no!" Harry hissed reaching out. But Simon was not wearing long robes for Harry to get hold of.

Lucius Malfoy, who was almost at one of the doors, turned towards them and Simon shouted, "Howzat!" With an expert flick of the wrist, he pitched the Time-Turner across the chamber. Then he jumped on to the top level of stone benches shouting, "Sirius. Sirius! Look up!" As graceful as he had been twenty-five years before, he skipped down the tiers.

Sirius, standing in front of the arch crowing in triumphant glee, looked towards the call. His expression froze in shock. His distraction allowed Bellatrix to reach her wand, and she lunged towards him screaming a curse. And in a flash of red light, Sirius fell back into the veil and was gone.

Harry crouched on the stone floor shaking with shock, clutching Simon's wand to his chest. He could hardly comprehend what had just happened.

From below, he heard Bellatrix gloating and his own younger self screaming for Sirius. He pressed his face against the cold stone floor.

The Time-Turner in his pocket started to vibrate and tick louder and faster. Bright light stabbed into Harry's closed eyes, and he began to spin.

.

When, after what seemed an age, he lifted his head from the hard floor, the chamber was empty and silent.

.

 _Exeunt Omnes._

End of Act I

.

.


	8. Act 2, scene 1: No One Left but Me

**ACT II**

 **SCENE I**

 **THERE WAS NO ONE LEFT BUT ME.**

.

It was fortunate that Harry did not meet anyone in the Ministry as he stumbled blindly from the Death Chamber to his office, making it to the bathroom just in time to expel the contents of his stomach in a bitter and painful rush of acid.

"Dearie me!" The toilet sounded rather offended. "Eaten something?"

"Merlin!" Harry muttered and stood up to pull the long chain that dangled from the high, old-fashioned cistern. It clanked and gurgled and a rush of water swirled around the bowl.

"Ta," said the toilet.

Harry sank to his knees again. If he could have got his hands on whatever idiot had thought it amusing to install a speaking toilet in the Head Auror's office, he would have taken great satisfaction in strangling them. He leaned his head against the cool porcelain trying to process what he had just seen. His mind felt sluggish. The scar on his forehead was still throbbing and a few drops of blood dripped into the bowl. He must be bleeding somewhere.

To his horror he heard footsteps outside. "I'm busy!" he croaked. "Come back later."

"Lock your door, Harry," said a female voice. "You don't want anyone else to see you like this."

Bleary-eyed, he groped on the tiles for his glasses and put them on. A tall, slender young woman was standing in the doorway. "Lock your office," she said again.

As if it had grown terribly heavy, Harry gave his wand a half-hearted flick muttering, "Colloportus." Then he leaned back against the wall. "I don't want you to see me like this either," he said. "Go away."

.

The woman left him alone, closing the bathroom door behind her. After a minute, he dragged himself to the washbasin where he plunged his head under the tap, holding it there long enough for the cold to become painful. When he went back into his office rubbing himself dry with a towel, the woman was standing with her back to him; apparently observing his window, though the forest view was obscured by thick fog.

"Megan, what are you doing here? How did you get into the Department? You're not authorised!" Harry sighed. "You've been doing that Star Wars thing again haven't you?"

She turned to face him, and he saw her face was ashen and she was compulsively twisting and untwisting a strand of her long, dark hair. Giving a passable impression of Alec Guinness, she wiggled her fingers in front of his face and said, "These aren't the 'droids you're looking for."

Neither of them smiled.

"Bloody security in this place is a joke," said Harry.

"Something's happened to Dad. And you already know," she said. "I can't feel him."

Harry looked away in misery.

"What's happened?"

Harry tried to gather his thoughts. "He came with me on a mission."

"Dad! Went on a _mission_ with you! Why would he do that?"

"I asked him to come with me. I needed his particular knowledge of something. He wanted to do it, he really did. It was an adventure!"

Megan sighed. "He does miss a bit of excitement."

"But it all went wrong," said Harry. "Only—it didn't exactly go wrong. I don't think it did. But I don't know why he did it!"

"Why he did what?"

Harry shook his head helplessly.

"Is he . . . dead?"

"I—I'm sorry."

"Show me," she demanded.

"No, Megan. I really don't think that's a good idea."

"I've a right to know."

"That's not fair."

"My dad dying is not fair."

Too shattered to argue any more, Harry surrendered. "This is classified. You mustn't tell a soul."

"Not even Firenze?"

"Well," Harry shrugged. "Maybe him, but nobody else, understand?"

"Understood. Now show me. Please."

.

.

A few minutes later she was pacing his office in tears. Harry had never seen Megan cry before.

"Time travel! You offered my dad the opportunity to use a Time-Turner and you expected him to behave in a responsible manner? Don't you—didn't you—know him at all?"

"There wasn't anyone else."

"He deliberately let himself be seen! Why did he do that, Harry?"

"I don't know any more than you do. And I've got to tell Julia. By now she must know something's wrong. Will you—will you come with me?" Harry squeezed the bridge of his nose, afraid he would start crying again in front of Megan. "This is going to be horrendous."

"Yes, of course." She pulled herself together. "Come here a minute." She took a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at his cheek. "You look awful."

"Just give me a few minutes, Megan, will you?" I need to do something."

"I'll wait for you in the Atrium."

.

Harry's hand was shaking as he took Simon's wand from inside his robes. He had no idea why Simon had taken a memory—or memories—from his mind, but Harry did know that in a split second, Simon had understood something that Harry still did not. _Look after this for me,_ Simon had said and that, at least, Harry could do.

Memory vials were an essential bit of everyday kit for all Aurors and he had several of the tiny things in an inside pocket, He took one out and picked up Simon's wand again. He could feel its power like a faint vibration against his palm. Not familiar and comfortable like his own wand, but ancient and with a touch of darkness. It was an interesting thing and he would like to have known more about it; but tempted as he was, he could not keep the wand. He would give it back to Julia. Perhaps Megan would use it, but more likely it would be hidden in the ancient walls of the cottage in case, in future, it was needed again. The thought gave him some consolation.

He tugged the stopper from one of the vials and pressed the tip of the wand against the lip. " _Transfundo."_

Insubstantial and misty, the threads of Simon's memory twisted and curled into the tiny bottle and settled into the bottom like a sediment or residue. Which in a way, he supposed, it was. Harry was uncomfortable with the thought of seeing what were likely to be intimate memories, but what else had Simon wanted him to do with it? He should take the vial to a penseive. Though neither the one at Hogwarts or in the Minister's office seemed quite appropriate for this particular memory. He would give the matter serious consideration later on.

After putting the stopper back firmly, he labelled it _Simon Grey_ and slipped the vial into the back of the bottom drawer of his desk, behind a bottle of firewhisky someone had given him for Christmas years before. Then he collected the robes he had left in a heap on the bathroom floor and went to find Megan.

.

.

They arrived on the path at the front of the cottage. Megan led him through the garden and in through the back door where Albie greeted them with a dignified woof.

"Megan!" Julia dusted flour from her hands and wiped them on a cloth. "What are you doing here? I'm waiting for your dad, he's late. He—" she caught sight of Harry behind her daughter and her eyes widened. Her surprise turned to shock as she took in Megan's distraught expression. She pushed past Harry to the door, staring out on to the path. "Where is he? Where's Simon? Harry, where is he?"

Megan's self-control was impeccable. She took her mother's hand. "Come inside, Mum. We can't talk here."

Like an automaton, Julia allowed herself to be guided into the kitchen and urged on to a chair. She was shaking her head. All the colour had drained from her face. "Don't," she said. "Don't tell me. Don't."

"I'm—" Harry struggled to find his voice. "I'm so sorry, Julia. I—I couldn't stop him."

"I said, don't! I'm not listening." She put her hands over her ears and started rocking backwards and forwards on the edge of her seat. "Not listening. Not listening," she whispered like a sulky child.

"Put the kettle on will you, Harry?" asked Megan. "Then you might as well go."

Harry nodded. Without a word he laid Simon's wand on the kitchen table and did as she asked.

.

* * *

.

When he arrived back at his office, the door was open and Hermione was sitting at his desk reading through his papers with a disapproving expression and an occasional sniff.

"What are you doing in my office?" he asked testily. Irritated, he swept all the papers into a heap and slid them away from her.

"You're a bit ratty today aren't you?" she said. "I just thought I'd see how you're getting on with your paperwork." She reached for one of the folders.

"As you see." He was brusque. "Now isn't a good time." He took the folder out of her hand.

"Goodness, you are in a bad mood. Did you get the Time-Turner?"

Without speaking, Harry pulled it from inside his robes and handed it to her.

"Was it Theo Nott who had taken it?"

"It was. We've got him in custody."

"He must have persuaded his father not to attempt to use it, thank Merlin." Hermione looked more closely at Harry. "You look terrible. Was it trickier than you expected?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"At least we've got it back, that's the main thing. Here." She passed him a tissue and pointed at his face. "You're bleeding."

"Oh. Thanks." He dabbed at his cheek. "I think you should destroy it."

"Destroy it?" Hermione turned the device over in her hand, looking at it. "This is fascinating. It's nothing like the one I had. Does it really go back as far as Hector said?"

"I imagine so," said Harry. The last thing he wanted was to talk to Hermione about what had just happened. Apart from anything else he needed to get his story straight in order to avoid some difficult explanations.

"In that case I think we should hang on to it," said Hermione. "I've got to get back to my office. I'll take it with me."

"Make sure you arrange for it to be properly locked away then," said Harry. "The last thing we need is for someone to get their hands on it thinking they can go back and fix Merlin-knows-what."

"I'm sure nobody else would be so stupid," said Hermione firmly. "Everyone knows it doesn't work like that."

Harry shook his head, too weary to argue. "You give people too much credit for common sense."

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll take care of it." She tapped the folder he was still holding. "We need to look into this. I'm worried about all that activity. I've been talking to the Illyrian Minister. These giants, you know, aren't any old giants."

"No?"

"No. I have it on good authority they're Cyclops."

"Crikey!"

"Yes. Crikey. And a Minotaur! And a Gryphon!"

"Is that confirmed?"

"Not exactly. But something's going on. These creatures are traditionally allied with ancient forces of darkness. I won't be seen to be doing nothing about this."

"Why don't I take a team out there?" said Harry. "See for myself."

"Not yet," said Hermione. "I know you're chafing at the bit to see some action, but we need a proper strategy. Which is why I'm calling an extraordinary meeting for the day after tomorrow and I want you there with me. In your Auror dress robes and wearing your Order of Merlin."

"Oh, Hermione, no, please!"

"Yes, Harry. And get on top of your paperwork. But now I'm sending you home. You should spend some time with your children before they go back to school."

.


	9. Act 2, Scene 2: As Happy as Kings

**ACT II**

 **SCENE II**

 **I'M SURE WE SHOULD ALL BE AS HAPPY AS KINGS**

.

* * *

.

To Harry's relief, the house was quiet, and he was welcomed by the irresistible smell of freshly made coffee. He poured himself a cup and went in search of Ginny, finding her working in her little study at the back of the house.

"Where is everybody?" He perched on the corner of her desk.

Ginny scribbled a couple more words on a parchment and then pushed it aside. "Apparently it was essential for Lily to go on one last shopping trip with her friend. James was very cagey about what he was doing. I think he's got a girlfriend in the village. Albus is in his room."

"As usual," said Harry.

Ginny noticed him shivering. "Are you cold, darling?" She reached up and put her hand on his forehead. "You're not feeling ill?"

Harry rubbed his face. His chin was rough and bristly. "Oh Merlin, Ginny! He's dead!"

"What? Who's dead?"

"Simon. He's dead."

"No!" Her eyes widened in shock. "How? He was fine a few weeks ago! What happened?"

"What happened? I—well, he fell through the Veil!"

"Not again!"

"Ginny, please!"

"Sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like that. But this isn't making sense! Let's go into the kitchen." She picked up his coffee and pushed him firmly out of her study. "Sit down." She urged him on to a kitchen chair and sat opposite him, taking his hand across the small table. "Tell me what happened."

Harry nodded and took several deep breaths. "I shouldn't have taken him with me."

"Taken him where? Darling, start at the beginning!"

Harry gripped her hand tightly. "This is classified Ginny, you mustn't tell a soul."

"I'm the Head Auror's wife. You know I can keep my mouth shut."

"There's a Time-Turner," said Harry. "A new one. Erasmus Prince built it from spare parts."

"Erasmus again? The man's a menace!"

"I couldn't agree more."

"But a Time-Turner! So what happened?"

"It was stolen by Theo Nott."

Ginny's forehead creased in confusion. "What on earth did Theo want with a Time-Turner?"

"It seems Theo's father had the notion that he could go back to the battle at the Department of Mysteries and stop himself getting injured there."

"But Time-Turners can't go back that far!"

"This one is a prototype." Harry rubbed at his scar. "Modified. It can go back much further in time than . . . normal ones."

"Is it even possible to change the course of history like that?"

"Not really. Apparently it would just make an alternate Time-Path. It wouldn't affect this one. But Claudius Nott didn't seem to have grasped that. The trouble is, the modified Time-Turner is unstable. It disrupts the flow of time. We needed to get it back."

"But once he had used it," said Ginny, "how could you do anything about it?"

Harry sighed. "You wouldn't credit it, but it just so happens there was another Time-Turner."

"Another one! Oh my." Ginny was sardonic. "I wouldn't be surprised if there's one in the kitchen drawer too. I haven't got to the back of it in years."

Harry managed to laugh. "We had to retrieve it. And I needed to take someone who could remember what had happened in the Hall of Prophecies. We couldn't afford to let anything change, you see, or we'd have ended up on a new Time-Path."

Ginny paled. "Bloody hell, Harry. Does that mean you wouldn't have come home?"

"I suppose so." Now Harry really did feel cold. "But it all went according to plan. We intercepted Nott exactly where we should. Simon made him—see himself."

"Oh! That's not supposed to happen is it? They say you go mad!"

"You don't go mad. You disappear."

"What?"

"You cease to exist. If your past self sees your future self, the future self just disappears. And that's what happened to him. Old Nott—the one with the Time-Turner—vanished. The Time-Turner was just . . . rolling around on the floor."

"Did you know how dangerous it was?" Ginny stared at him. "You did! Didn't you think about the risk if you had seen yourself? About the children? Me?"

"It's my job, Ginny. I'm not a penpusher like Percy. Never have been. You know that."

The corners of Ginny's lips turned down with disapproval. "So what happened to Simon?"

"We had a little while to wait before we could come back and he wanted to look in the Death Chamber. Where the action was."

Ginny tutted. "Of course he did."

"We hid behind a pillar near the top of the chamber and watched. It was all as I remembered. Sirius was by down by the arch duelling Bellatrix. He was on great form and she was falling back." Harry paused. "Then I looked over at Simon and he—the look on his face, Ginny! It was as if he'd suddenly found himself on the edge of a precipice, and he—he had his wand and he did that thing—" Harry mimed pulling something out of his forehead. "He pulled a memory thread into it and gave it to me. And then he . . . he stood up and threw the second Time-Turner across the room. And then jumped down the tiers and shouted at Sirius to look up. And . . . Simon wasn't there anymore. He just wasn't there! He was gone! And while Sirius was distracted, Bellatrix managed to get to her feet, pick up her wand and—"

Ginny finished for him. "She fired the curse that sent him through the Veil."

Harry nodded, a hard lump in his throat.

"Phew. Of course. Oh, Harry that was so brave!"

"Brave? I thought he'd gone mad!"

"Don't you see?"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, love." Ginny stroked his cheek with her thumb. "You said Sirius was getting the better of Bellatrix? He was winning. He was about to beat her. But that isn't what happened, is it? He couldn't do that. It would have changed everything. Simon had to do what he did. Because if Sirius had beaten Bellatrix he wouldn't have fallen through the Veil and then—"

Harry's mouth was dry. "—We'd have been on a different Time-Path, and we wouldn't have come back to this one. But . . . Simon didn't come back anyway."

"No," said Ginny quietly, "but you did."

"Oh Merlin, Ginny. I think you're right."

Ginny's eyes were bright with tears. "I didn't know him that well, but he was very charming and I was fond of him. Poor Julia! She must be devastated. She should come and stay with us."

"I'll ask her, but she'll say no. She blames me."

"Oh, darling, I'm sure she doesn't. That's not fair!"

"She does. And it was my fault." Harry rubbed his scar which was prickling uncomfortably. "I feel as if I've been ten rounds with one of Hagrid's cousins. And I need a shave. But I'd better tell the kids about Simon."

"Don't tell them yet, Harry. I don't want the last day of the holidays spoilt for them."

"I suppose you're right. It'll give me a chance to work out what to say. Did you manage to get Lily's present?"

"I did. Fleur helped me choose. Super-trendy designer Sparklefly Wings. Lily will adore them. Are you still intending to give James the cloak?"

"Yes. I think he's old enough to be responsible with it."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "If you say so. And what about Albus? I wondered about the Map."

"The Marauders' Map?" said Harry, surprised. "From what I can gather he never leaves his room in Hogwarts unless he has to. Just like here really. It wouldn't be much use to him. Anyway I'm not sure I want to give it away just yet."

"So what shall we give him?" asked Ginny.

"I've been thinking about it," said Harry. "He seems so angry all the time, but I want him to know how much I care about him. I thought—my blanket."

"Your baby blanket? Oh!" Ginny pursed her lips. "Do you think he'll appreciate it? It's not quite an invisibility cloak, is it?"

"If he knows how much it means to me," said Harry, "how can he not appreciate it?"

"Whatever you think," said Ginny. "I hope you're right."

.

* * *

.

Harry kept the little blanket along with a very few items from his youth, in an old plastic case in the bottom of his wardrobe. The case had belonged to his mother as a little girl and the plastic had grown brittle with age, but it was the only thing of hers he had. He lifted the deceptively fragile invisibility cloak from where it lay on top, then took the blanket from underneath and shook it out. He pressed it against his face as if somehow he might be able to smell his mother and father or his own baby self. The blanket did smell faintly of something. He couldn't quite think what it was and closed his eyes, sniffing deeply. For some reason a long-forgotten image came to mind. Molly standing on a step ladder spraying some sort of liquid on to the curtains in the drawing room of the house at Grimmauld Place, while he and Ron held an old tablecloth between them catching unconscious doxys as they fell out of the faded green velvet. What a peculiar thing to remember.

He folded the blanket again and put it away with the cloak.

.

Harry wanted to make the last couple of days of August the sort of ideal family school holiday he had never fully experienced himself. Molly had always made him welcome, of course, but the Weasleys hadn't been his own family: not really. Though of course now, too late for his own childhood, they were. He set his grief aside to deal with later, and assumed the part of a jovial, good-humoured, obliging father.

"Here we are then, kids." He waved several serving dishes on to the table and deposited a plate in front of everyone. "Home-made fish, chips and mushy peas. With my special butterbeer batter."

"Nice one, Dad," said James, losing no time in serving himself.

"Oh Daddy, you are my favourite daddy," said Lily happily.

"Hey, Albus won't you have some more?" Harry shovelled food on to Albus's plate without waiting for an answer.

Ginny took a piece of fish but with a deep sigh of regret refused any chips. Harry piled his own plate high, pretending not to notice her disapproving looks.

"I bet you're all looking forward to getting back to school now," he said cheerfully. "Seeing your friends. Quidditch. The first of September was the best day of the year for me. I looked forward to it all summer. Life with the Dursleys wasn't much fun."

James looked bored. "Oh yeah, Dad, we know."

"James and Albus will be able to go to Hogsmeade. Honeydukes," Harry said dreamily. "The Three Broomsticks. I wasn't allowed to go in my third year. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon refused to sign the permission slip. I wasn't—"

"—allowed until Sirius signed it," all three children finished in unison.

Harry swallowed hard and Ginny squeezed his knee under the table. "I suppose I've told you that before," he said. "Are you going to try for Keeper this year, James? How about you, Albus? You might make it on to the team this time."

James sniggered.

"There's no need for that, James," said Ginny.

I don't want to be in the bloody Quidditch team," said Albus.

"Albus," said Ginny. "Please don't swear at the dinner table."

Albus prodded at his food. "I'm rubbish at flying, Dad. You know I am."

"You just need to practise a bit more," said Harry. "I could take you out. Or your mum could." He ignored Ginny's warning kick. "You'd enjoy it so much more if you'd just make an effort. Your schooldays are the best days of your life you know."

"No they're not!" shouted Albus. "You don't know what it's like! I hate Hogwarts and I hate Hogsmeade and Quidditch and all of you!" He threw his knife and fork down with a crash, stormed out of the room and clumped heavily up the stairs. His bedroom door slammed so hard the crockery rattled.

"Nice work, Harry," said Ginny. "Very well handled, I thought."

"Albus won't be wanting these then, will he?" said James seizing a handful of chips from Albus's abandoned plate and wandering out of the room with them.

"Can I go too please?" said Lily. "I've got to make a list."

"Of?" said Harry.

"My clothes," she said rolling her eyes. "And my shoes."

Harry looked at Ginny. Ginny shrugged.

"You'd better go then," he said. "It'll be a pretty long list."

.

He waved the plates into a stack and sent them clattering into the kitchen. "They don't tell you," he said, "how to do it. There should be a book of instructions."

Ginny smiled, stood up and dropped a kiss on the top of his head, fondly rubbing his crown. Harry wished she wouldn't do that. He thought she was trying to tell him something he'd rather not know.

"I remember my dad saying much the same thing," she said. "Perhaps you should write one."

"I could write a book on how not to do it," he offered.

"They will be all right," she said. "In the end they will be all right."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too. And I've got some work to do, so I'm leaving you with the washing up."

.

* * *

.

Harry always experienced a comfortable feeling of security when all his family were safely under one roof. But now he was rapidly approaching a time when those occasions would happen less and less often. His mother-in-law still had the clock that monitored the members of her own family. But since Fred had died leaving his hand frozen on 'Mortal Peril'—there not being space on the dial for 'Dead'—she had placed it, face to the wall, in the corner of an unused bedroom where she didn't have to look at it.

Once Harry had asked Ginny if she would like one of her own, but she had shuddered. "Merlin, no!" she had said. "It's all fine and dandy when things are going well, but knowing someone is in danger and not being able to do anything about it would drive me mad!"

And on reflection, Harry agreed.

.

Having run a bath as deep as he could without the water cascading over the side, and as hot as he could stand without cooking, he was attempting to get a whirlpool effect by shooting bubbles from the end of his wand under the water when Ginny stuck her head round the bathroom door. "I'm afraid you've got a visitor."

"What?" Harry didn't move. "It's practically the middle of the night. Tell them to go away."

"Sorry." She made a sympathetic face. "I tried. He's very insistent. He's in the sitting room. And I'm off to bed, so I'm afraid you'll have to go down."

"Who is it?"

"It's Amos Diggory."

"Just when you think things can't get any worse." Defeated, Harry climbed out of the bath.

.


	10. Act 2, Scene 3, Now I Have Done With it

**ACT II**

 **SCENE III**

 **NOW I HAVE DONE WITH IT**

 **.**

* * *

.

Harry opened the living room door, tightening the belt of his dressing gown as if it would give him extra strength. "What do you mean, coming to my home at this time of night, Amos? You're out of order! And I've had a hell of a day already."

Amos swivelled around in his wheelchair from where he had been staring into the fireplace. "You've been fobbing me off for months, Potter. Letter after letter. Excuse after excuse. I'm not having it any more! I heard you this morning at St Oswald's. Looking for Nott. That son of his got it, didn't he? He got the Time-Turner!"

"Keep your voice down," Harry said casting a glance towards the stairs. "My children are asleep."

"Deny it."

"Deny what?"

"You've got a Time-Turner. Yes! I can see it in your face. You owe me, Potter. You owe me my son's life!"

"How have you reached that conclusion?"

"Voldemort took my son. He didn't even want him. He wanted you. My Cedric was just . . . what the Muggles call collateral damage!"

"Merlin!" Harry's scar was aching again. "What do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to use the Time-Turner!"

" _Hypothetical_ Time-Turner. And use it for what?"

"Whatever sort of damned thing it is, I expect you to go back and make sure my son survives."

Harry lost patience. "I can't do that! Time doesn't work that way. You can't go back and change things. Look at Nott!" As soon as he spoke he regretted his impulsive words.

"What about Nott?"

"Well . . . he didn't come back, did he?"

For a moment Amos looked nonplussed, then his expression hardened again. "Nott was a fool. He didn't know what he was doing. You could save Cedric. If you wanted to, you could."

"I've had enough of this. You need to go now, Amos, before I . . . before I have to arrest you."

"Oh that will look good won't it, Potter! Arresting an old, grieving cripple. I see there is no compassion in your soul. Where's my nurse? Delphini!"

The young woman with silvery hair Harry had seen at St Oswald's, appeared silently from the direction of the stairs. Her flimsy pale gown and delicate sandals were somehow un-nurse like; though even annoyed as he was, Harry was not beyond noticing the curve of a smooth, tanned shoulder and slender neck. She wore a knowing expression Harry couldn't help but think verged on sly. Had she been listening to the conversation?

.

Unsettled, Harry stood watching the fireplace for several minutes after Amos and Delphini had gone. Eventually he turned the light off and went up to bed where Ginny was already asleep.

.

* * *

.

Over breakfast, Lily, whose new wings sparkled and fluttered and made a faint buzzing noise, asked, "Dad, can we go and see Aunty Jules and Uncle Simon today? She promised me horse-riding, and the holidays are nearly over."

"She did," said Harry, "but . . . I'm afraid she's not well. She's got . . . the flu. I'm afraid the horse-riding will have to wait until the Christmas holidays."

"Christmas!" Lily pouted. "But that's aaaages!"

Ginny came in bearing several parcels. "These are from Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione." She handed James a small package. "This one's yours."

"Cool," said James, starting to unwrap it as he left the room and wandered upstairs.

"And Lily." Ginny held out a larger parcel.

"I love presents," said Lily happily.

"I suppose Albus is in his room," said Ginny giving the last present an experimental shake. "This sounds ominous."

"Did we send presents for Rose and Hugo?" asked Harry.

"Of course we did," said Ginny. "We sent Rose a set of Quidditch shin pads signed by the Caerphilly Catapults."

"Perk of the job?" asked Harry.

"Absolutely. And we got Hugo a new owl cage. I'm surprised you don't remember helping to choose it."

"Sorry," said Harry. "It's been a bit busy at work."

"Gnomes!" Lily had opened her present and was staring at a pair of wrinkled creatures tucked into a cardboard box in bemusement. "Why has Uncle Ron given me these?

A long, low and very rude noise emanated from one of the sleeping creatures.

"Oh for goodness' sake!" Ginny shrieked. "Open the window!"

Lily was torn between laughter and disgust but at least she was distracted from her horse-riding fixation.

All of them were further diverted by a scream of fury and distress from James who dashed into the room clutching his head in his hands. "Pink!" He took his hands away to show them. "Damn it! Ron's given me a comb that's turned my hair pink!"

"Not just any shade of pink," said Ginny observantly. "I would call that fuchsia."

"Mum, that's not helpful. What am I going to do?"

"I've no idea," said Ginny. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

"I'll have to use the invisibility cloak."

"What?" said Harry. "Just over your head? In any case, it shouldn't be treated frivolously. I gave it to you because I trust you to care for it and treat it with respect."

"Like you did, you mean?"

"Do as I say, not as I do," muttered Harry.

Ginny's patience had run out. "My brother can be such an idiot! Lily, put the gnomes out in the garden before they wake up and run amok in the house. James, I'll sort your hair out later, don't worry. Harry have you given Albus our present yet?"

Harry shook his head. "I was waiting for the right moment. But he hardly leaves his room and I always feel like an intruder in there."

"You can't wait much longer. Do it now. And take Ron's up with you." She handed Harry the package. "I dread to think what it is."

Harry could feel liquid sloshing about inside the parcel, and wondered what other ill-judged gift Ron might have sent. He was tempted not to deliver it at all.

.

Sudden doubt assailed him as he retrieved the baby blanket from his own room. It had seemed such a good idea yesterday but now . . . perhaps the map would be better after all? With his hand poised to knock, he stood on the landing outside Albus's bedroom and dithered. No, he would not change his mind. He tapped on the door and took a vague grunt from inside as permission to enter.

.

Albus's room was stuffy, with a heavy underlying scent of sweaty feet, deodorant and stale food. The curtains were open to an inch-wide slit allowing in just enough light for Harry to navigate a path between discarded crockery and limp piles of unidentifiable clothing. Albus was lying face down on his unmade bed playing Gobstone solitaire.

"I've got your present," said Harry with forced cheerfulness. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "And there's one from Ron as well. Here, sit up."

Giving what Harry felt was an exaggerated sigh of effort, Albus turned over and pulled himself into a sitting position. Without enthusiasm, he tore the wrapping paper off Ron's gift and peered at the label. "A love potion! Why does Uncle Ron think I need a love potion? Doesn't he think I'm capable of getting a girlfriend on my own? If I wanted one that is. Which I don't."

Harry would joyfully have strangled Ron at that moment. "I'm sure he doesn't think anything of the sort. There's plenty of time for that kind of thing. It's just Ron's idea of a joke."

Albus pulled the cork out of the bottle and held it under his nose. An odd expression crossed his face.

"What does it smell of?" asked Harry.

"I don't know. Some sort of . . . shampoo? _Sorcier pour L'Homme_ I think."

"That's fancy stuff! Even James doesn't use that. Anyway, this is from me." Harry held out the little grey blanket.

Albus looked baffled and after a moment's hesitation took it and unfolded it. "A blanket? A very _small_ blanket. What is this? For dwarves or something?"

Harry was offended. "It's the blanket I was wrapped in when I was left at the Dursley's. For some reason Aunt Petunia kept it. I always felt it brought me luck and I thought perhaps . . ."

"Luck!" Albus sounded scornful. "Well I could certainly do with some of that. But I don't want this." He sniffed at it. "It stinks! It's mouldy or something."

"It's not mouldy! I want you to have something that's important to me." Harry picked some clothes up off the floor. "Can I help you with your packing?"

"I don't need your help!"

Dropping the clothes back on the floor, Harry stood up and said, "Look, Albus, I've had a letter from the headmistress. She's concerned about you."

Albus flopped back on his pillow. "She don't need to be."

"Doesn't," corrected Harry.

"She doesn't need to be bloody concerned then, all right?"

Harry persisted. "She's worried you're not going to get the O.W.L. grades you really should. You might even put your N.E.W.T.s in jeopardy."

"Who cares!"

"I care! And you should care! How will you have a good career unless you get good grades? I know what it is. It's that Malfoy boy!"

"What?" Albus looked shocked but Harry was too wound up to care.

"I want you to keep away from him. He's a bad influence."

Albus sat up again. "He's not a bad influence! Or have you been listening to those stupid rumours as well?"

"Of course I haven't! Just keep away from him. No good ever came from that family."

"And no good ever came from you either! I wish you weren't my dad!"

Harry saw red. "Well that's mutual then, because so do I!"

There was silence and the two of them looked at each other. In Albus's angry, hurting expression, Harry saw so much of himself he wanted to weep; wanted to take Albus in his arms and unsay all the things they had both said. But he did nothing.

"Albus—"

"Don't say anything else, Dad. I think you should go."

"But, Albus—"

"Just bloody go!" Albus picked up the blanket and threw it at Harry. It landed on the floor at his feet. Harry was about to bend and pick it up when the uncorked bottle of love potion landed on top of it, spilling its contents all over the soft fabric.

.

He found Ginny on the landing outside. She looked at him steadily and he shook his head and dropped his gaze. "Sorry Gin," he muttered. Without speaking to him, she opened the door and went into the dimness of Albus's room.

.

Harry slunk downstairs wishing he had gone into work. Albanian giants sounded like child's play compared to the complexities of parenthood, and he knew what he would be better at. He made himself a coffee and shut himself in Ginny's study where he felt he was least likely to do any more damage.

An unfinished article on the desk caught his attention and distracted him for a few minutes. _A Muggle yacht race ended in chaos this week. Only one of the twenty-three competitors finished the race, making the all-woman crew of the 'Winged Shadow' the winners by default. The crews of fourteen craft had to be rescued by coastguards. Four craft drifted ashore on the Albanian coast, three landed on Corfu, and the last one washed up near Otranto yesterday. Although Mugggle reports are blaming freak weather conditions for the debacle, our correspondent is aware of several uncorroborated sightings of sirens just off the coast of Corfu. Coincidence? That's what we'd like to know!_

 _._

After half an hour Ginny joined him.

"Is Albus . . . all right?" Harry asked.

"I think so. Perhaps you'd better just leave him alone for the rest of the day. He's locked himself in his room. Don't make a fuss about it."

"But he shouldn't be locking himself away!" Harry was tempted to run upstairs and blow the door off its hinges.

His thoughts must have shown on his face because Ginny said warningly, "Harry, please don't do anything stupid."

"Anything else stupid, you mean. Oh, never mind. Perhaps my other children will be glad of my company."

"I'm afraid not." Ginny gave him a rueful smile. "James is out and Lily has gone shopping with her friend."

"What, again? She can't possibly have any pocket money left!"

"You can thank Bill," said Ginny. "He's a soft touch and Lily knows it only too well. I have an article to finish. If you're looking for something to do, those stupid gnomes have unearthed all the tulip bulbs. Can you sort that out? And perhaps you could catch the ruddy things and send them back to Ron. Gift-wrapped."

.

.


	11. Act 2, Scene 4 No Ugly Dream

**ACT II**

 **SCENE IV**

 **NO UGLY DREAM SHALL FRIGHT MY EYES**

.

* * *

.

"Harry! Harry!" Ginny was nudging him, and he woke with a shout from a complicated dream which remained momentarily vivid in his mind. A voice he had not heard for twenty-two years echoed in his head, and his scar was throbbing.

She sat up and waved her wand. " _Lumos._ "

"Huh?"

"You were talking—shouting—in your sleep. Were you having a bad dream?"

"Oh." Harry pulled himself up next to her and leaned back on the headboard feeling groggy and unsettled. "I was dreaming about the time Hagrid came to find me at the hut on the rock and tied the barrel of Uncle Vernon's shotgun into a knot."

Ginny rubbed sleep from her eyes. "Not a nightmare then."

"Not to start with. Only just before you woke me up, I thought I heard—"

"Heard what?"

"Voldemort," he whispered.

"Your scar's sore again isn't it? I've noticed you touching it a few times. How long has it been bothering you?"

"A couple of days. When I went back to the battle in the Department of Mysteries, it started hurting—really hurting—like it used to. Because Voldemort was there, wasn't he? I should have expected it, I suppose. But it hasn't really stopped since." Harry felt a wave of terror. "You don't think I could have brought a bit of him back with me somehow?"

Ginny's eyes were wide and dark. She touched his face. "Oh, Harry, love! Surely not!"

Fear knotted hard and cold in Harry's stomach. He feigned a sleepy yawn, plumped his pillow and wriggled down under the quilt. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep. We've got an early start."

"I think you should have a word with Hermione."

"I will. I'll speak to her this afternoon."

"Make sure you do." Ginny put the light out and lay down with her arm possessively across his middle. Soon she was asleep. But Harry lay awake for a long time listening to the steady sound of her breathing and anxiously prodding at his scar.

.

.

Morning dawned with a light mist and the promise of a warm, bright day ahead. The hall was cluttered with trunks, bags, coats, brooms and cages.

Harry observed those of his family who were seated around the breakfast table. Ginny calm and cheerful: Albus surly: Lily excited and still sporting her wings. James's chair was empty. He felt a slight pang at the prospect of his children being away for the next three months, but mostly he was looking forward to the peace.

"Do we know where James is?" he asked.

"Her name is Olivia," said Lily through a mouthful of toast. "She lives in the village and she's a Muggle."

"Oh. How do you know that?" said Ginny.

"I pay attention," said Lily and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Won't you eat some more of your breakfast?" Harry asked Albus. "Sausages and scrambled egg. I thought it was your favourite."

"Not hungry," said Albus. He was rather pale and looked tired.

"Didn't you sleep well?"

"Of course I didn't sleep well!" He stabbed his fork viciously into a sausage and pushed it back and forth across his plate.

"Lily," said Ginny, "you are not taking those wings to school."

"Aw, Mum!"

James sidled through the door behind her.

"I mean it. Put them in your room. James, where have you been?"

"Oh nowhere. Just saying 'bye to someone."

" _Someone_ being Olivia?" asked Harry.

" _Someone_ being none of your business, Dad," said James stuffing a whole sausage into his mouth without even the hint of a blush.

"Come on!" Ginny jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. "Train goes in an hour. Chop chop!"

.

* * *

.

The five of them were hardly on to the platform before Lily had been absorbed into a shrill gaggle of other girls. She broke away just long enough to run back and give her parents a perfunctory hug before disappearing again.

Harry saw the brief flicker of Sparklefly wings. "I thought we told her she couldn't take them to school?"

Ginny shrugged. "We did. Do you want to go and demand she hand them over?"

Harry looked at the cluster of excitable young females with horror and declined.

"Sam!" James shouted and waved at a lanky youth with spiky hair and shaving rash. "Here mate!" He punched his father on the shoulder rather harder than Harry thought strictly necessary. "Seeya, Dad. Mum." He dipped his head to give Ginny a peck on the cheek and swaggered off.

"He's getting so tall," said Ginny wistfully. "He'll soon be bigger than you."

Albus stood close to the steaming train, as far away from his parents as he could; head hunched into his shoulders and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes. But when he spotted the Malfoys' arrival on the platform, the change in him was remarkable. He straightened up and his face cleared of its sulky expression. He smiled in what seemed to Harry like the first time in months.

"It's not normal," Harry muttered to Ginny.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Ginny. "You should be glad he has such a good friend. Look, he's coming to get his things. Please be nice to him."

Albus gathered his belongings. "Bye Mum."

Ginny gave him a tight hug and brushed his fringe back. "Bye, darling. Don't look so glum. It'll be Christmas before you know it."

"No it won't." Albus scowled. "Christmas is miles away." He picked up his case without looking at his father.

"Bye, son." Harry opened his arms and stepped towards Albus who turned away.

"Got to go!"

.

Harry held Ginny's hand as he watched the train depart with an inexplicable sense of foreboding. He pulled himself together. "I have to be at Hermione's meeting this afternoon. Will you be there?" He looked up at the station clock. "I've just got time to go and see Julia first."

"I've got an interview with the Chudley Cannons," said Ginny. "I'll meet you at the Ministry later. Give Julia my love. And do invite her to come and stay."

Harry lifted her hand to his lips and drew her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. "He will be all right won't he? Albus. I don't understand why he doesn't like school. I loved it so much."

"Albus isn't you, Harry. I think he feels as if he doesn't quite fit anywhere. But he'll grow to fit somewhere. Just perhaps not Hogwarts."

"You're so wise." Harry gave her a kiss. "And I'm a lucky man."

"You are," agreed Ginny. "And don't you forget it. I'll see you later."

.

* * *

.

Harry arrived in front of Julia's cottage and walked round to the back door. Without waiting for an answer to his knock, he stepped into the utility room. Albie heaved himself to his feet and greeted Harry with a half-hearted lick before clambering back into his basket.

Julia came to the door leading into the kitchen. "Oh, it's you."

"I've been worried about you," said Harry.

"No need," said Julia. "But I'm not receiving visitors at the moment."

"Since when was I a visitor?" said Harry. "Shall we have a brew?"

"I suppose so," said Julia ungraciously. "You'd better come in."

Harry followed her, pausing to glance through the open door that led into the dark sitting room. The curtains were drawn and the mantelpiece clock had stopped. He sat at the small kitchen table and cleared some space in the clutter of unopened post and dirty cups.

Julia was sluggish and clumsy as she filled the kettle and switched it on. She rummaged at the bottom of a storage jar. "It'll have to be a teabag, I haven't been shopping."

"That's fine."

In two days she seemed to have aged ten years. Her hair was flat and lank, there were dark bags under her eyes and she had not bothered with her bright lipstick. She was wearing a baggy tee-shirt with a stain on the front and grubby leggings.

"You look . . . tired," said Harry.

"I look like shit."

"You do," he agreed. "Have you even bothered to get dressed today?"

"None of your damn business!"

"Jules," Harry said. "Simon wouldn't want you to be like this. You know he wouldn't."

"Oh, that's unfair, Harry. Simon isn't here, is he? He's actually dead, or had you forgotten?"

"Of course I haven't bloody forgotten! You know better than that. I loved him too. And what about Megan?"

"Megan's all right. She says that when someone dies, as long as we remember them, they exist inside us. But I don't want bloody memories. I want Simon. Here. With me!" She put a cup of hot, watery tea on the table. "There aren't any biscuits."

"He was so brave, you know." Harry fished a floating tea leaf from the surface of his drink. "I saw it in his face. He knew he had to do it to prevent the Time-Path going in a different direction. He knew he wouldn't come back. He—he wanted me to tell you he was sorry."

Julia's voice was dull and tired. "And is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Doesn't it?"

"No, Harry, it doesn't. Do you know why?"

Harry shook his head.

"Because I can't tell him I'm proud of him. And I didn't say goodbye. Oh bugger." She started to weep helplessly and sank on to a chair.

"Oh, Julia." Harry knelt down on the floor in front of her and took her cold hands in his. "Come and stay with us. Please. Ginny wants you to."

She shook her head, not looking at him. "No, Harry. I need to be on my own. Here. Where I can pretend he's just out on the hill. Where I can pretend he's about to walk through the door and come into the kitchen and . . . go away, Harry. Just go away."

So with a cold and heavy heart, he went.

.

* * *

.

Harry fastened his ceremonial sword around the waist of his bright scarlet, yellow, and sky blue robes with considerable reluctance. Even allowing for wizarding taste they were garish. They made him look like an idiot, and he could only imagine the derision with which Draco Malfoy would greet his appearance. He looped the ribbon of his Order of Merlin over his head and put his hat on.

.

The Grand Meeting Room at the Ministry had expanded to accommodate a sizeable assemblage, which buzzed like a beehive at the excitement of a meeting called at such short notice. Harry pushed through the door and narrowly missed being struck by a flying chair summoned by a fat wizard in spotted robes.

He negotiated his way through the crowd. As he passed a febrile group of young witches wearing the green and maroon stripes favoured by the Potions and Poisons Department, he heard one of them say: "Hebe in Catastrophes says his hair turns turquoise when he—" She caught Harry's eye and trailed off in pink-faced confusion. He assumed they had been talking about Teddy, and hardly dared speculate on what it was that anecdotally made his godson's hair turn turquoise.

Finally he navigated his way up on to the podium. Hermione was wearing formal black Ministerial robes, her own Order of Merlin and very high heels. He drew her to one side of the stage. "I know this is bad timing, but . . . it might be relevant. I've, um, been having some . . . odd dreams and, well, my scar's been hurting. Ginny thought I should mention it."

Hermione's brow creased. "That's worrying. Especially with all these other things that are going on. You were right to tell me. Did the children get off to school all right? How was Albus?"

"Not too good," Harry admitted. "We had a terrible row yesterday, and things were still strained this morning."

Hermione clicked her tongue sympathetically. "What did you row about?"

"I don't even know really. The Malfoy boy I suppose. And he didn't like the present I gave him."

"No? What did you give him?"

Harry sighed. "I should have listened to Ginny. She thought it was a bad idea. I gave him my blanket. You know, the baby blanket I was wrapped in when Hagrid took me to the Dursleys."

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione. "I know how important it is to you, but I can see why it wouldn't appeal to a fourteen year-old boy."

"Yes, well. He wasn't impressed. He said he wished I wasn't his dad."

"Teenagers say things like that all the time. You shouldn't let it worry you."

"I know. It's not that. It's what I said in reply."

"Which was?"

"I said I wished I wasn't his dad as well."

"Oh Harry! Oh no."

Pushing the idiotic sword aside, Harry shoved his hand deep into his pockets, and stared at the bare boards of the podium. He had nothing to say.

"We need to talk more about it," said Hermione, "but I have to get this meeting started now."

"Come for dinner tonight," Harry said. "You and Ron. We'll have a proper chat."

.

On the stage behind Hermione he tried to get comfortable on a hard Ministry chair. Fidgeting in his slippery dress robes, he searched the teeming crowd with his eyes while Hermione calmly arranged her papers on the lectern. At last he saw a flush of red hair and spotted Ginny talking to Ron. Even after all these years the sight of her made his heart beat faster and his appreciative gaze rested on her for several seconds.

Professor McGonagall was there too, stern and dignified in dark green robes and a tall hat. She must have thought the meeting was important to take time out on the first day of term. On the other side of the room, he recognised Draco Malfoy's distinctive pale head. Draco was sporting a neat goatee beard, which Harry privately thought looked ridiculous, and if there was any grey in the receding hair worn in a sleek ponytail, it blended perfectly into the light colour. Right at the back of the room were a couple of goblins with Bill, distinguished in a sharp Muggle-style suit. And Fleur with him; still as slender and fair as ever.

"Get me my sunglasses!" cried someone. "It's too bright, I can't see!" That was followed by a hoot of laughter and Harry's ears grew hot. He pretended not to have heard.

"Can I have quiet please!" called Hermione, to no discernible effect. "It's like herding dratted Nifflers," she grumbled, and flicked her wand. " _Silence!"_ Her voice boomed overhead and the chatter abruptly ceased. The colourful throng sat to attention and there was much clearing of throats and scraping of chair legs on the hard floor.

"Good afternoon, everyone," she said crisply, "and thank you for taking the time to attend this extrordinary meeting. I appreciate that the first of September is a particularly busy day for many of you, especially those with children at Hogwarts. But a number of matters have recently come to my attention which you should be made aware of. Some of you might have heard rumours regarding the increased activity of certain magical creatures in Europe?"

A few people grunted in agreement. "Aye!" a sturdy wizard in tweeds called out. "My sister was on holiday in Corfu. Said they found thirty ruddy great cows in't hotel swimming pool t'other morning. They wun't like any beasts she'd seen before. Big buggers. Big horns. Big cow-pats an' all."

There was a collective guffaw and even Hermione cracked a thin smile. "We haven't yet heard of similar sightings in this country, but we in the Ministry do not take these reports lightly. Those of us who are old enough will remember the past consequences of the authorities failing to act in a timely manner."

A murmur of general approval rumbled through the crowd.

"At this stage," Hermione carried on, "we are tentatively attributing this activity to a new underground movement which we are—in the absence of any definitive information—calling the _Neo Tenebrae_. Which is why I am keen to know of any unusual, unexpected or unexplained events which may have occurred over the past few weeks. Does anyone have anything—anything at all—to report?"

Harry spotted a wand sticking up into the air and nudged Hermione.

"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione pointed at the wand. "Do you have some information?"

"Minister." The professor lowered her hand. "In the interests of thoroughness, I can tell you that we had a break-in to the potions store at the school during the holidays."

"Oh! What was taken?"

"Very little in fact. Lacewings, Boomslang skin. Nothing that is not freely available elsewhere."

"Do you suspect anyone?"

"I have put it down to Peeves, Minister."

"Thank you, Professor. I will see to it that an investigation is carried out."

"You can be assured I will offer every assistance," said the professor consulting her wristwatch. "But the Hogwarts Express will be arriving at Hogsmeade soon. Is there anything more of which I need to be informed?"

"Does anyone else have anything to report?" Hermione asked.

No one spoke out or raised their wand.

"In that case," said the professor, "I have to get back to school. I will bid you good day." McGonagall dipped her head. The other witches and wizards stepped respectfully aside to leave her path clear as she swept away in an imperious swish of heavy velvet.

When the professor had gone, Hermione spoke again. "There is another matter I wish to raise. I know some of you bear a Dark Mark." There was a murmur of disquiet among the crowd. She lifted her hand. "We are not interested in raking up the past! But I—we, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, that is—need to know if anyone's Dark Mark has been . . . bothering them."

In the audience people started to look around at each other with suspicion and unease.

"And your point is?" said Draco loudly. "Is this some sort of vendetta? Are we never to be allowed to move on?"

"That is not the case at all, Mr Malfoy!" Hermione protested. "I am happy that the younger generation are growing up never having known the horrors of war. Nevertheless, we should not lose sight of the fact that dark forces still exist in the world. Dark forces which may come to threaten our way of life once more. It so happens that Auror Potter's scar has been troubling him for the first time in over twenty years. For the first time since Voldemort's defeat! We fear some echo of him—some shadow—"

"Auror Potter. Of course." Draco's voice carried clear and rich with scorn. "Your special friend behind you there, in the pretty frock." Several people sniggered and Harry's face burned. "The legendary Saviour of the wizarding world. Who couldn't possibly have had anything to do with your own appointment as Minister of Magic!"

There were audible gasps of outrage and a few grunts of approval.

"This meeting is a travesty!" said Draco. "An exercise in paranoia, and yet another example of Potter's relentless attention-seeking. Voldemort is dead! I don't need to hear any more of this nonsense!" He swept his robes around him theatrically and strode out. A number of other people seemed to take his departure as a cue to follow.

Wait!" called Hermione. "The meeting isn't over yet! There are several issues we need to address!" But her words went largely unheard. As if given unspoken permission to leave, in ones and twos and larger groups her audience dispersed and soon only Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were left in the room.

She sat down on the edge of the stage careless of her smart ministerial robes, and kicked her shoes off. "Well, that was a great success, wasn't it?"

" _Neo Tenebrae?"_ said Harry sitting down beside her. "What's that about?"

"I had to give it a name," she said flexing her toes. "They like names. It was the first thing that came to mind."

.


	12. Act 2, Scene 5: Where Shall We Adventure

**ACT II**

 **SCENE V**

 **WHERE SHALL WE ADVENTURE?**

 **.**

* * *

.

"This is excellent," said Ron licking gravy from the finger he had just dipped into a serving dish. "Gin, your steak and kidney pudding is very nearly as good as Mum's."

"Well, thank you, Ronald," said Ginny, refilling four glasses of wine and sliding three of them across the candlelit table. "High praise indeed from an acknowledged connoisseur in the steak and kidney pudding department. In any case it's not mine, it's Harry's."

"Really? Top notch this is, mate!"

"Did you speak to Rose about keeping an eye out for Albus this term?" asked Ginny.

"I did," said Ron. "But I fear my entreaties fell on deaf ears."

"She refused?"

"Nothing so decisive. She sort of shrugged and said _Wha'ever_." He imitated Rose's glottal stop and demonstrated a disinterested shoulder movement.

.

The window was open and dusk was falling. An almost imperceptible breeze carried a foretaste of autumn damp into the dining room and a crane fly beat a disorganised tattoo against the lampshade. Harry gathered it into a bubble at the end of his wand. "Daddy long legs," he observed to no one in particular. "Means the nights are drawing in."

"This afternoon's meeting was a disaster," said Hermione draining her wine glass and reaching for the bottle. "I don't think anyone was paying attention. Maybe if Draco hadn't been there stirring things up it would have been more productive."

"He was certainly taking it personally, wasn't he?" Ron helped himself to several roast potatoes. "He didn't like it when you asked if anyone's Dark Mark had been hurting again. Do you think that means his mark _has_ been hurting?"

"No one else said anything," said Ginny. "Maybe they wouldn't. But Draco's so bitter. I wrote to him when Astoria died, you know."

"Did you?" said Harry. "You didn't tell me."

"I'm telling you now," she said. "I invited Scorpius to stay here in the holidays. I got a very terse reply demanding that you publicly refute the allegations about Scorpius's parentage. Nothing else."

"Do you think Draco's lost his marbles?" asked Ron.

Harry grunted. "More than likely. Madness runs in that family."

Hermione was more sympathetic. "He's obviously let these silly rumours get to him. No one could really believe that farcical story about him using a Time-Turner to have Voldemort father Astoria's child. The very idea is monstrous! Whatever you think of Draco, he was besotted with his wife and shattered when she died."

"Maybe so," said Ron, "but don't feel too sorry for him. He accused you of only getting appointed as Minister because you're Harry's pal. I ought to punch him. Or put an infestation of death-watch beetles in his country pile. Doxys in his bedcurtains."

"And an Acromantula in the shrubbery," added Harry. "Sounds good to me. Want a hand?"

"Do you think there is anything to worry about in what Professor McGonagall said?" asked Ginny. "You know, about the things that had been taken from the Potions store? What did she say had gone? Lacewings? Boomslang skin?"

"The professor thought it was Peeves," said Hermione. "I see no reason to think differently."

"You seem a bit down, mate," said Ron nudging Harry's plate. "I thought you'd be glad to have the house to yourselves."

"You do seem a bit preoccupied," agreed Hermione. "Is your scar hurting again?"

Under the table Ginny took Harry's hand and pressed her thumb into his palm. He squeezed back. "No it's not that. I, er . . . recently lost a good friend."

"Oh dear!" said Hermione. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Anyone we know?" asked Ron.

"No. It was Megan Fenwick's father."

"Your old Legilimency student? I didn't know you were that friendly. Was he very old?"

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat along with a large mouthful of wine. "No. He was sixty. It was very sudden."

.

There was a rattle at the open window. An owl had landed on the sill and was rapping its sharp beak against the glass.

"At this time of the evening?" Harry got up and took the letter, giving the bird a piece of meat from his plate. It tapped an acknowledgment and flapped away into the darkness.

"It's from Hogwarts," he said, showing the crest on the envelope as if he needed to prove it. All four of them exchanged glances. A chill settled in his chest.

"You'd better open it, mate," said Ron.

Reluctantly, Harry opened the envelope. He read the letter twice, not wanting to believe what it said.

"Harry? Harry!" Ginny's alarmed voice brought him to his senses.

"It's Albus." He felt boneless and limp. "He's missing." It was strange how normal his voice sounded. He looked at Ginny, then Hermione and Ron. "With the Malfoy boy."

"Let me see." Hermione held out her hand expectantly. Dazed, Harry passed the letter to her.

"They jumped off the train! How is that even possible?" Hermione assumed control of the situation. "Come on. Let's get down to the Ministry. Ronald you had better go and tell Arthur and Molly what's happened."

.

* * *

.

Teddy Lupin was sitting at Percy's desk and jumped up as soon as he saw Harry. "Boss! Mrs Boss!"

"Hello, Teddy." Ginny's smile was strained.

"We're going to the Meeting Room for an update," said Harry. "Tell me what we know."

"Jewett sent me up there as soon as we got the news from Hogwarts," said Teddy. "According to the Trolley Witch the boys managed to get off the train somewhere near Harrogate. Ah"—he consulted a notebook—"Merlinforsaken place called Flagley-Juxta-Mondrum."

"That trips off the tongue nicely doesn't it?"

"Yes Boss. They climbed on to the roof."

"Of the _moving train_?"

"Yes, Boss. The Trolley-Witch showed us exactly where they jumped off. We searched along the tracks both sides for a couple of miles; no sign of them. No blood or anything like that."

Harry shivered and closed his eyes for a moment. "I hope that means they weren't injured. That's something."

"Yes, Boss. There's nothing much around that neck of the woods. A few farms. Nearest village is Upper Flagley." Teddy closed his notebook. "I'm afraid that's all we've got for now."

"Thanks, Lupin. I want a second search in case anything has been missed."

"Yes, Boss."

.

* * *

.

The Ministry meeting room was much smaller than it had been earlier in the day. A dozen chairs had been arranged in a circle but only one of them was occupied. With a jerk of his head, Senior Auror Jewett indicated for Teddy to sit beside him.

Draco Malfoy was pacing back and forth. "You've taken your time getting here, Potter."

Harry ignored him, pulled a chair out for Ginny, and stood behind it, resting his hands on the back. If Draco wouldn't sit down then neither would he.

.

Hermione hurried into the room. "I've been upstairs to Whitehall," she said. "The Muggle Prime Minister was thrilled to see me as you can imagine. He's promised to file a missing person's report, but I got the impression he felt it was not his problem. And I'm inclined to agree."

"That'll get lost in a pile of bureaucratic paperwork anyway," Harry said gloomily. "I speak from experience."

"If this is connected with this— _resurgence of Dark Magic_ ," Draco said. "This _Neo-whatsit_ you were talking about this afternoon, Granger. If they have been kidnapped—"

"They haven't been kidnapped," Harry said.

"How can you know that?"

"I just do know. Albus doesn't like Hogwarts. He didn't want to go back. And . . . we argued. Things were said in the heat of the moment."

"What things?"

"None of your business, Malfoy,"

"So this whole thing is, in fact, your fault, Potter. I should have known. You've always been a jinx on my family." Draco jabbed his wand in Harry's direction as if tempted to curse him.

"They've run away," said Harry. "They jumped off the train."

"What do you mean, they jumped off the damn train?"

"Simple enough to understand," muttered Harry.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy," said Jewett. "They jumped from the roof of the train. Near Harrogate."

"Scorpius would never have done something like that on his own initiative," said Draco. "It's the Potter boy's influence again, damn him! And nothing has been found by the tracks?"

"No, Mr Malfoy."

"Nothing," Harry confirmed.

"I want it searched again," said Draco.

"It's being searched again." Harry kept his annoyance under control.

"And the Trolley Witch?" demanded Draco.

"She's no help at all," said Jewett. "She's more concerned about how it reflects on her than she is about the boys. And she keeps sticking forks in her eyes by way of punishment. But she hasn't told us anything useful."

"How about the Trace?" asked Draco. "Do we know if they've tried to do any magic?"

"Traces aren't monitored in term time," said Harry. "In any case, since we don't know where they are, it's not much use. We can't go checking every bit of magic that's been used in Flagley Juxta Mondrum, Flagley Parva, Lower Flagley and Upper Flagley in the last seven hours, can we?"

"I want no expense spared," said Draco. "Whatever it costs, my funds are at the Ministry's disposal."

"The Department is perfectly well funded thank you, Malfoy," said Harry. "We have no need of your . . . financial assistance."

"You will not have any objection if I make my own inquiries then?"

"Of course," said Harry stiffly. "You must act as you see fit."

Draco inclined his head very slightly, turned and left the room without another word. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

Ginny said, "I'll have to go and see Mum. She'll be distraught. Oh, Harry, where do you think they've gone? They'll be all right, won't they?"

"Of course they will," Harry reassured her with a confidence he did not feel. "They're not infants. I expect they'll be back when they're ready. Go and see your mum and dad. I'll stay here a bit longer."

"Come to my office," said Hermione. "We can discuss strategy there."

.

* * *

.

Ron was waiting outside Hermione's office. His expression was vague and Harry wondered if he had come from the pub.

"All right, mate?" said Ron. "And me beautiful wife."

"Ron! What are you doing here?" said Hermione. "Is there anything wrong? Has something happened to Hugo or Rose?"

"I thought I'd surprise you. I can surprise me wife can't I?" He pressed a kiss on to her cheek.

Hermione pulled back and wiped her face with her sleeve. "Have you been drinking?"

"Perhaps I should go," said Harry.

"No," said Hermione. "We need to get this business with Draco and your argument with Albus in perspective."

"Oh," said Ron, "you're talking about when Harry said he wished I wasn't—Albus wasn't—his son!"

For goodness' sake, Ron!" gasped Hermione, colouring.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry.

Ron shrugged. "Best to be honest about these things."

"This is not a good time, Ronald," said Hermione. "I'm sure you appreciate how busy we are. I'll see you later." She stepped past him and headed for her office door, but Ron dashed in front of her again and blocked the way.

"What are you doing now? Let me get into my office!"

"Babe."

" _What?"_

"Babe. You're still a babe after all these years. Let's have a holiday. A second honeymoon."

"Now I know you've been drinking." She tried to push him aside but he fastened his lips on hers with a sucking noise. Harry grimaced with mixed amusement and embarrassment.

Hermione fought her way free. "Have you put something in my office? One of your stupid jokes? Because if you have I won't be answerable for my actions. And you've been eating fish. Come on, Harry. Let's go to your office instead."

.

Harry fancied a look of relief crossed Ron's face and wondered what he had been up to in Hermione's office. There couldn't be a woman in there, surely? Harry shook his head and dismissed the notion as ludicrous.

.


	13. Act 2, Scene 6: All the Wicked Shadows

**ACT II**

 **SCENE VI**

 **ALL THE WICKED SHADOWS COMING**

 **.**

Harry groped under his pillow for his wand. " _Lumos."_

The other side of the bed was empty, the quilt thrown back. Ginny must have been unable to sleep. He took several deep breaths before pulling himself up against the headboard and finding his glasses. Images from the dream that had woken him flickered at the corners of his vision.

The bedroom door opened, and Ginny came in with two cups floating before her. "I thought you might want a drink. Earl Grey." A cup drifted over the bed and hovered in front of Harry's face.

"Thanks, love." He took hold of it, sniffing at the fragrant steam. Ginny climbed into bed beside him. "Couldn't you sleep?" he asked.

"Of course I couldn't sleep. I was thinking of going into work. We could print an emergency issue of the Prophet. Ask people to look out for the boys."

"Good idea." Harry rubbed his head. "I had another dream. I saw Albus."

"Well, that's not surprising." Ginny frowned. "Your scar is still hurting, isn't it? You were rubbing it again."

"Yes, but—my dream. It wasn't a normal dream. I'm sure it means something."

"Oh Harry, you're tired. Not thinking straight. Neither of us are."

"Gin, I want to go and see Megan and Firenze."

"You think your dream is some sort of premonition?" Harry could hear the cynicism in her voice.

"You think it's nonsense."

She snorted. "Er, yes."

"Well maybe it is. But I'd like to hear what they have to say."

"It's five o clock in the morning. But fine. If it helps, go ahead." She got out of bed. "I might as well go into the Prophet after all."

.

* * *

.

Harry stepped out of the large fireplace in the steamy Hogwarts kitchens on to the stone floor. The smell of baking enveloped him like a fragrant eiderdown. Around him a flurry of excitement began to grow and shrill voices cried: "It's Mr Auror Potter! It's Harry Potter!" A collection of elves began to accumulate, their big round eyes worshipful; ears trembling with excitement.

"Mr Auror Potter, sir!" An elf was before him eagerly offering a tray loaded with golden pastries. The elf bowed, skilfully keeping the tray level as he did so. "Would Mr Harry Potter care to try a fresh pasty, sir?"

"Oh, erm, it's a bit early but—" the pies looked delicious and smelt even better. "Perhaps just one. Thank you. But I am in rather a hurry. Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me." He tried to avoid stepping on long, bony toes as the elves fell back, whispering in awe as he made his way out of the kitchens.

.

He hurried across the deserted Hogwarts grounds eating the steaming pasty as he went, glad of his heavy Auror robes in the early autumn chill. The sun was just rising on the pink horizon and soft mist rose from the grass. The distant trees looked as if they were smoking.

.

The building that Hogwarts provided for the centaur was not far from Hagrid's hut near to the forbidden forest but could hardly have been more different. Built of white stone, it was a simple rectangular structure with a shallow pitched roof supported by slender columns.

Harry approached looking for the entrance. "Hello!" he called, suddenly mindful of the uncivilized hour. "Anyone home?"

"Harry!" Megan appeared from around a corner, looking fresh and showing no sign of surprise at seeing him. She kissed him on both cheeks and said, "That was quick. I wondered when you'd arrive."

Harry sighed. "I should have known you'd be expecting me. I don't suppose I need to tell you why I'm here."

She shook her head. "I don't know if I can help, but I'll do my best. Come inside. It's all ready."

"What's all ready? You're not going to do all that nonsense with incense and stuff are you!"

"Take it or leave it, Harry," she said. "But you've come all this way to see me. Why do that if you don't believe in it?"

.

She led him through a wide entrance at one end of the building between two columns and he looked about with interest. It was cool and still inside the single long room. Gentle light filtered on to a floor made of smooth white marble slabs. Above, elegant arched beams of pale wood framed the space and a small fountain trickled over a grouping of smooth grey and black stones into a wide basin. There was little in the way of furniture.

"You're staying here with Firenze?"

Megan tutted. "You have a filthy mind, Harry Potter. I sleep up there." She indicated a simple wooden ladder leading to a mezzanine platform under the roof. "And Firenze is not here at the moment. The British Council of Centaurs have called a meeting."

Harry's face warmed. "You've got to stop reading my mind. It's embarrassing."

"It's not up to me, is it? It's for you not to let me. Your guard has dropped, you know. Don't forget I'm descended from a long line of Dark Wizards. Constant vigilance. That's what—" she paused "— Dad used to say."

Harry pulled her into a hug. "I know. I remember he once said to me the ones who love us never really leave us. Something like that anyway. It was a long time ago."

Megan was serene and patted him on the shoulder. "Firenze has helped me a great deal. He speaks such good sense. And you know, I didn't even meet dad until I was eleven. I loved him, of course I did. He was so easy to love. So charming when he wanted to be. But it's an odd thing. I still feel him in here sometimes." She put a finger to her temple. "Like I did when I was small."

Harry must have looked sceptical.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm not mad. I know he's gone. Really I do. I'm not delusional."

"No." agreed Harry. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask how you are. And your mum. I saw her yesterday. She didn't look too good."

"I'm fine, and Mum will be all right. She says she will be, anyway. She cries a lot, and she's so angry with him. Terribly angry. She knows it's unreasonable, but she feels that he left her again without saying goodbye. And she knows he's dead, but there's no body. We can't have a funeral. She can't have . . . closure. But I think you've got more immediate problems to worry about."

She led him to the far end of the room where a plain rush mat woven with a pattern of outstretched bird's wings was spread on the floor. In the middle of it was laid out a tray with a teapot and cups and something that looked like a sugar bowl on legs.

"Are you all right sitting on the floor?"

Harry must have looked doubtful.

Megan grinned. "Would you like a cushion?"

"Do you mind? I'm rather feeling my age these days."

She summoned a soft cushion and Harry arranged himself on it self-consciously. Megan sat cross-legged opposite him and poured two drinks into small porcelain handleless cups. She passed one over. Harry tasted the liquid. It was warm and slightly bitter.

"It's very good for you," said Megan. "Green tea. Mum swears by it. Cleanses the liver."

"Really?"

"So she says. Of course Dad wouldn't touch it."

Harry took another sip and made a face. "I bet he wouldn't."

"Philistine. _Incendio."_ Megan flicked her wand at the dish on legs and a hot glow appeared inside it. She took a pinch of something out of a little box and sprinkled it into the bowl. A soft cloud of white smoke gathered above it and began to disperse through the air, pungent and sharp but not unpleasant.

"Close your eyes, Harry. Relax." Megan's voice was smooth and calming.

The smell of the smoke was at the back of Harry's throat. It was making him tired. Involuntarily, he yawned.

"Go back into your dream," said Megan. She must have moved to the far end of the room, but Harry couldn't summon the energy to open his eyes and look. "Tell me what's happening."

"I'm under the stairs. Aunt Petunia is shouting at me." Who was speaking? Was that Harry's own voice? It sounded distant and unfamiliar. "Albus . . . I can see Albus!"

"Good. What's he doing?"

"He's wearing Durmstrang robes."

"That's interesting. Why is he wearing Durmstrang robes?"

"Well . . . he's in disguise."

"Why is he in disguise?" asked Megan.

"Because he's going to the Triwizard Tournament and he doesn't want to be recognised."

"Why does he think someone will recognise him?"

"Because he looks like me."

"Is he at the Triwizard Tournament now?"

"No." Harry felt discombobulated. "Not now. But he's going to be."

"And where is he now?"

"He's at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He's with Scorpius."

"Good. Now wake up, Harry." A cool breeze blew on his face and the heavy scent dissipated.

Harry blinked. "He's there isn't he? He's at the Forbidden Forest!" He scrambled to his feet. "I've got to let Ginny know!"

Megan stood up and took Harry's hands. "Good luck. I do hope you find the boys soon. I'm particularly fond of Albus, you know. Of all your children, he has the most complex thoughts."

"I hadn't seen like that," said Harry, "but you are right. I just wish—"

"I know," said Megan. "But you'll make it right, Harry, I'm sure."

As he jogged back towards the castle, Harry concentrated on sending his Patronus to Ginny before he re-entered the castle kitchens. Politely, he refused the offer of another pasty and numerous cakes and drinks and stepped into the vast fireplace.

.

* * *

.

Professor McGonagall was sitting in an armchair wearing a thick tartan dressing gown and slippers and sipping tea from a cup and saucer. She lowered her cup and peered at Harry over the top of her spectacles. "Auror Potter! Welcome! Do not concern yourself about my carpet. It is merely a little soot. Have you had breakfast? Can I tempt you with a cup of tea?"

Ah Harry was entirely wrong footed. "Thank you, Minerv"—The headmistress drew in a sharp breath—"Professor, but I'm expecting—"

There was a green flash in the fireplace and Ginny emerged behind him shaking specks of soot out of her hair. "I came as soon as I could."

"Ah, Mrs Potter." Professor McGonagall was unperturbed. "Are we expecting anyone—"

There was another flash and Hermione stepped neatly out into the room. "I just got your message, Ginny. Is it true?"

"Clearly we are," said the professor. "We're having a party. How exciting. Shall we wait for the rest of the guests? If I had known, I would have laid on some catering." The fireplace flickered and then flashed again twice in quick succession as first Ron then Draco emerged.

Ron had a napkin tucked under his chin. Ginny wrinkled her lip and poked her finger at it. "Is that gravy, Ron? At this time in the morning?"

"I, ah, took a wrong turning. Ended up in the kitchens."

"So you thought you'd have a bite to eat while you were there," said Draco. "Perfectly understandable."

"Well, Harry'd already been there!"

"Thanks, Ron," muttered Harry. "And who invited him?" He gestured at Draco who sneered.

"I did," said Hermione. "He has a right to know what is happening."

Ginny looked around and bit her lip. "I know this will sound silly, but Harry had a dream. He thought he saw Albus."

Draco snorted. "That was worth getting up early for then."

"Don't feel you have to stay, Malfoy," said Harry. "I know none of you believe in divination–"

"Divination! Harry, really!" exclaimed Hermione. "You got us all out here for that!"

Harry slapped his hand on Professor McGonagall's desk in annoyance, dislodging a bronze model of the Loch Ness monster and making Ginny jump. "Don't you think it's worth exploring every avenue? I've been to see Megan Fenwick. My old Legilimency student. She has a talent for interpretation. And finding things that are lost."

"And has she 'found' the boys?" Draco's voice was loaded with disbelief.

"Not quite, but I'm sure they are here somewhere. In the Forest."

"Auror Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice was gentle. "I have no doubt Miss Fenwick is acting from the best motives, but are you sure she isn't simply telling you what she thinks you want to hear?"

For a horrible moment, Harry felt cold. Had Megan been doing that? Then his mind cleared. "No." He shook his head." She didn't tell me anything. She asked me, and I told her."

Professor McGonagall inclined her head. "In that case, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest you waste no more time here in my office."

"I want a search party," said Draco.

Harry gritted his teeth. "As I was about to say, I want a search party."

"I'll go back to the Ministry and organise it," said Hermione. "I'll put Jewett in charge and tell him to get a team together. Then I must get back to work. I've got a meeting with the Head of Stationery in"—she looked at the clock on the wall and sighed—"less than an hour. Good luck, Harry. I do hope this isn't a wild goose chase."

"You can have some of the sixth years as well," said Professor McGonagall. "Leave it with me. I'll instruct them to report to you at Hagrid's. I'll tell him to expect you all imminently."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry. "Ron and Ginny, will you go down there now and brief people as they arrive? Malfoy," he added grudgingly, "you'd better go with them. I'll wait here for Jewett and the team."

.

* * *

.

By the time Harry and the other Aurors arrived at Hagrid's hut, quite a crowd had assembled. After the promising dawn, the sky had clouded over and it had started to drizzle. He found Ginny waiting for him by the pumpkin patch and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging hug.

"Dad! Mum!"

They both looked round to see James approaching. Most of his cocky swagger had evaporated and he looked younger and rather vulnerable in his Gryffindor robes.

"James!" said Harry. "You're part of the search party? I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Albus is my brother," said James. "Even if he is a bit of a wuss."

"James!" Ginny remonstrated.

"Well he is, but . . . do you think he's been kidnapped, Dad?"

"No. I'm sure he's run away."

"Is it because I teased him about Quidditch?"

"No, James. No, I don't think it's that. Have you seen Lily?"

"She thinks it's exciting," said James. "Her brother, the rebellious runaway. She's basking in reflected glory. Half her friends want to go out with him."

.

"'S a bugger this, Harry," said Hagrid, tiny droplets of rain shining in his beard. "But I reckon they'll be back safe and sound in no time. An' I've made yer all a drink." He indicated a tea tray the size of a small dinghy.

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry. "Very good of you." He helped himself to a cup out of politeness then called out. "Can I have everyone's attention please! I want four groups. Group one will report to Auror Jewett, here. Group two report to Mr Weasley, group three to Mrs Potter, and group four to"—he paused for a moment then gave in—"Mr Malfoy. All of them are to report back to me. Understood?"

There was a united murmur of agreement.

"Mr Malfoy?"

"Understood," said Draco.

.

The search parties dispersed into the forest and Harry found himself left alone outside Hagrid's hut. He should wait there where he could be found if he was needed, but he could not bear to be doing nothing while everyone else was searching. He followed Ron's party into the gloomy forest until he was surrounded by trees and could no longer see the hut or anything beyond a few yards away.

Around him, Harry could hear the crack of breaking branches and the odd pop from one spell or another accompanied by flash of light. Every now and then a raised voice shouted for one or other of the boys.

The sound of something large approaching caught his attention. "Albus?" he called out. "Scorpius?" There was no reply, and he drew his wand ready to defend himself as a shape emerged through the trees.

"Harry Potter." The figure was dark and intimidating; the voice deep and unforgiving.

"Bane!"

The centaur glared at him. "You are trespassing on our land once again, Harry Potter. We do not tolerate trespassers."

"I am not your enemy, Bane. You know I'm not. My son is missing, and I believe he is here in the forest."

"He must be very foolish to come here." Bane stamped at the ground with a broad hoof and circled Harry threateningly, so close that the hairs of his tail flicked against Harry's cheek.

Harry stood his ground. "Can you tell me anything, Bane? Is he here?"

The centaur stopped moving and lowered his head and torso so that he was nearly level with Harry. His eyes were so dark they seemed to soak up the light. "There are strange alignments in the heavens, Harry Potter. Your son bears a heavy burden, and there is a black cloud over him. A cloud of dark mischief that threatens all of us." With a harsh whinny, Bane turned and cantered away into the depths of the Forest.

Harry stood, his wand dangling uselessly at his side. What did Bane mean? A black cloud over Albus?

.

"Harry!" A woman's voice came from behind him, and he turned to see another centaur approaching from outside the forest. Firenze inclined his head in greeting and Megan slid smoothly off his back. "What did Bane say? Anything useful? Or did he give you the Black Cloud business?"

"Ah, the Black Cloud thing. How did you know?"

"It's what he always does when he has nothing useful to say. I felt Albus here a little while ago. But I can't feel him now. He's gone."

"Gone! Where?"

"I don't know. I can't feel him at all. It's like when . . ." She trailed off.

"Albus is not dead!" said Harry.

"Of course not! I didn't mean—"

"Harry!" Ron was running towards him. "A couple of your Aurors picked someone up a few minutes ago. Hiding in the bushes."

"You'd better go Harry." Megan took hold of both his hands and squeezed. "If can help—"

"Megan." Firenze's voice was soft. He held out a sinewy arm. "Come."

Megan let go of Harry's hands and reached up to Firenze, pulling herself on to his back in a graceful, elegant movement.

"Good luck, Harry Potter. If your search here proves fruitless, try consulting with the dead." Firenze dipped his head and then in a shower of soil and leaves, they were gone.

Consulting with the dead! Harry was baffled. How was he supposed to do that?

.

"This way." Ron led Harry through the trees to a clearing where several people were poking around in the undergrowth. "We heard a noise and saw a flash, then this sixth year spotted her." He gestured towards a pimply youth who was hovering nearby. "The Aurors picked her up over there." He pointed. "Lupin's taken her straight to the Ministry."

Harry beckoned to the youth. "Good work, lad." He shook the young man's hand. "What's your name?"

"Bowker, Auror Potter. Craig Bowker. Slytherin prefect."

"If you fancy some work experience in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, come and see me."

"Oh thank you, sir, I will."

"Boss!" someone called. Harry made his way towards the voice. "We found these as well." A junior Auror handed something to him; two paper shopping bags, rather damp and limp, but the writing on them still legible. _Malkin and Moribund, School Outfitters, Diagon Alley. Suppliers of uniforms for Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Ilvermorny. Branches in New York, Paris, Munich and London._

Harry scratched his chin. "In my dream, Albus was wearing Durmstrang robes." Carefully he folded the damp bags and tucked them under his robes. "I'd better get to the Ministry."

.


	14. Act 2, Scene 7: Pictures on the Wall

**ACT II**

 **SCENE VII**

 **SEE THE PICTURES ON THE WALLS**

.

Teddy made a final scribble on a piece of parchment and handed it to Harry. "Here you are." His eyes were misty. "Delphini Diggory," he said. "Del-phi-ni. She's gorgeous."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Harry. "Has she said anything useful?"

"Oh." Teddy blinked and thought about it. "Not really. But she's as sexy as—"

"That's enough, Lupin."

"Sorry, Boss. She's in interview room one."

A faint, indefinable scent tickled Harry's nostrils as he unlocked and entered the box-like room. For a few seconds he felt younger, more virile; almost excited. Whatever the perfume was, it was more pleasant than the smell of unwashed wizard Harry was more accustomed to.

The pretty young woman with unusual silver-blue hair sitting at the small table gazed at him with dark, limpid eyes. But Harry was in no mood for games. "You're Amos's niece. You came to my house." He summoned another chair and sat down opposite her.

Delphini did not contradict or confirm his statement but observed him with a distant expression and a faint, supercilious smile that Harry felt would soon become very irritating. She made a slight movement that caused the silky fabric of her deceptively simple gown to slide off one smooth shoulder.

"Don't bother," said Harry. "I've seen it all before."

There was something about the young woman that felt unbalanced. The features that he had at first found appealingly seductive were oddly strong. Almost masculine.

"Am I under arrest?" Delphini's voice was husky and with the hint of a foreign accent. Harry suppressed a faint surge of attraction.

"I just want to ask you a few questions, Delphini. Do you know my son, Albus Potter? Or his friend, Scorpius Malfoy?

"Ah, let me think." She tapped a finger against a moist pink lip. "I don't believe I do actually. Why do you ask?"

"They're missing. Have you seen these before?" He put the still damp paper bags in front of her.

"I do not recall seeing them before."

"No? Can I ask what you were doing in the Forbidden Forest?"

"I was out for a walk."

"Really?" Harry looked at the parchment Teddy had given him. "You give your address as St Oswald's in Lower Flagley. It's a long way to come just to go for a walk."

"I fancied a change of scene. Anything wrong with that? Has a crime been committed?"

"Possibly."

"You have no reason to keep me here. Unless I am suspected of involvement in criminal activity, you'll have to let me go. It's not like the bad old days, you know. Do I need to remind you of article 7b in the Law-Enforcement Reform statute of 2013?"

She did not. Harry was defeated. "Lupin!" he called. Teddy appeared in the doorway with an attentive expression that degenerated into idiocy as soon as he laid eyes on Delphini.

"Get rid of her," said Harry gathering the bags and his paperwork. "Make sure she's well out of the Ministry. I don't trust her as far as I could throw an Erumpent."

Harry watched Delphini's triumphant departing back as she was escorted out into the corridor by the besotted Teddy. The low drape of her tunic revealed the edge of a dark stain between her shoulder blades. Was it a tattoo?

.

He found Hermione leaving her office. "I was just on my way home." She locked the door. "Have you seen Ron? Any developments with your suspect?"

"She's not really a suspect. At least I suspect her of being up to something, but I don't know what. I had to let her go." Harry perched on the corner of the absent Ethel's desk, rubbing his face. "The girl was lying," he told Hermione. "Every step of the way she was lying; I'm absolutely sure of it. But I didn't have enough on her to request Veritaserum. We don't even know that any crime has been committed."

"What could the boys possibly have to do with her?" said Hermione. "How could they even have met?"

"I wonder," said Harry. "She was at my house with Amos Diggory three days ago. I thought Albus was in bed, but maybe . . . It's possible he could have met her then. And she is quite—"

"Quite what?"

"Alluring, I suppose. Teddy certainly thinks so. I wonder if she's part Veela?" Harry raked his hands through his hair and immediately regretted it. "Bloody hell, Hermione! It's nearly twenty-four hours since the boys jumped off the train and we haven't made any progress in finding them. No one's seen them, they haven't been in contact. I swear that damned woman knew something about it, but why would she lie? What game is she playing?"

"I hate to say this, Harry, but it's your job to find out."

"Thanks for reminding me."

.

Harry trudged back to his own department and was disconcerted to find Draco waiting for him.

Harry opened the door and Draco followed him into his office without being invited. "Potter, I want to know what progress you're making. It's nearly twenty-f—"

"—Twenty-four hours. I bloody well know, Malfoy. And you know I'm not making any progress. You'll be the first to be told of any developments."

"I better had be."

"I'm at a loss." Harry dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands. "I've simply got no idea where to look. Even the centaurs were totally nonsensical. Consult the dead. I ask you! How am I supposed to do that?"

"Portraits?" said Draco gesturing at the panelled walls.

"I'm not sure," said Harry looking up at them. "They tend to be a bit—"

"Oi! You lot! Wake up!"

"Ssh!" Harry hissed. "Don't do that!"

"Why not?"

Most of the portraits on his office wall opened their eyes. Several yawned and stretched. A man with a thin face and bushy sideburns had a coughing fit and demanded a cigarette. Harriet Vane was back in her frame, immaculately coiffed and applying crimson lipstick.

"Whaddya want?" said a red-faced wizard in a top-hat.

"Don't be so rude, Tiberius," said Harriet. "No doubt Auror Potter needs our assistance." She smiled down at Harry. "How can we help?"

"My son is missing," said Harry.

"And mine," said Draco.

"Aha!" A pale, ascetic-looking man whose label identified him as Trenham Reeks, Head of Department, 1856-79 rubbed his hands in evident delight. "A case!"

"They jumped off the Hogwarts Express," said Harry. "Somewhere in Yorkshire."

"Impossible," said Harriet. "Can't be done. They must still be on the train."

"Of course they're not still on the train!" said Harry crossly.

"Are you sure, Potter?" said Draco. "I seem to remember an incident—"

"Albus doesn't have an invisibility cloak," said Harry. "Does Scorpius?"

"I seem to recall," said a thin wizard, waving a Meerschaum pipe, "the notorious case of the serpent in the chimney. That was in Yorkshire, if memory serves."

Draco stared at the portrait in evident bafflement and then turned his gaze to Harry who shrugged in an _I tried to warn you_ sort of way.

"How can that case be connected with this one?" demanded Harriet.

The wizard with the Meershaum pipe blew a yellow smoke ring. "Didn't say it was. Just said I was reminded of it."

"If we're talking about Yorkshire," said a stern witch in black, "There was the case of a fourteen year old girl taken by a hobgoblin and held captive in Ingleborough Cave. She was forced to spin straw into gold for three years before she escaped."

"Do the boys have spinning experience?" asked Harriet.

"Certainly not," said Draco. "This is the twenty-first century."

"It never is!" said Reeks. "Is it?"

"And we're not talking about Yorkshire," said Harriet. "We're talking about boys. They must be somewhere. Boys can't disappear completely. Perhaps they have been miniaturised."

"What?" said Harry, looking involuntarily at his feet in case he might see a tiny Albus running about on the floor.

"Boys," said Dr Dee, a wizard in a skull cap and ruff. "When we speak of boys, I am minded to consider history. The time when Jack the Trickster disguised himself as a princess in order to gain the trust of the king's son and taught him to speak the language of serpents. Against all the ancient laws of the kingdom. For nothing more than mischief!"

"Oh really, Dee!" said Harriet. "That was over seven hundred years ago. If it ever really happened at all."

"Time is but another gaming-piece in the Trickster's joke box," said Dr Dee.

"Oh for goodness' sake!" Harriet pursed her red lips. "Things have moved on. We don't even have kingdoms any more. We have the Ministry."

"Then mayhap they have taken the Shadow-Path."

"Oh you and your Shadow-Path!" said Harriet. "Silly superstitions."

"Let's go outside," said Harry nudging Draco and jerking his head towards the door. "I'll put the lights out. They might go back to sleep. Or they might not."

.

.

"They were worse than useless," said Draco pushing a heap of unopened mail aside and sitting on Percy's vacant desk.

"I didn't think they would be any help," said Harry gloomily. "They never have been before. And they'll be arguing for hours now. Sometimes they keep going for days. But how else can I talk to dead people?"

"What about that mirror you were so taken with? The mirror of Erised."

"You can't talk to people in that, you can only see them, and I don't think that's what Firenze meant. Apart from the portraits, the only dead people I've spoken to were—oh!"

The two of them spoke together. "The ghosts at Hogwarts!"

Harry looked at Draco. "Do you think—?"

"You're the bloody Auror, Potter," said Draco. "What have we got to lose?"

.

* * *

.

They found Nearly-Headless Nick floating below the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall.

Nick!" Harry waved.

"Harry! What a surprise, old bean!" Nick drifted down and hovered in front of them. He held his head steady with one hand and swept the other into a deep bow. "And Draco Malfoy, if I am not mistaken. This is highly unusual. But no less pleasant for that."

Draco cleared his throat and fiddled with the collar of his robes. "Sir Nicholas."

"Nick," said Harry, "I wanted to ask if you had seen my son, Albus, at all. Or Mr Malfoy's son, Scorpius."

"Well from time to time of course. I haven't seen either of them yet this term."

"Oh." Harry was flat. "They're missing, you see. You haven't heard anything? On the grapevine as it were?"

"I haven't spoken to another soul since July," said Nick sadly. "You're the first person who has even bothered to stop for a chat. The days do drag terribly."

"Sorry about that. I'd stay longer, but I have to find my son."

Nick gave a long, bubbling sigh. "You might try asking Myrtle. She takes a keen interest in the students. Especially the boys."

"Thanks, Nick."

"My pleasure. Do come and visit again, won't you, gentlemen? Don't leave it so long next time."

.

* * *

.

The girls' bathroom was warm and steamy and scented with mingled potions. A puddle had formed under one of the washbasins, so Harry chose that one to shout into. "Myrtle!" he yelled into the plug-hole. "Myrtle, are you there?"

"No need to shout. I'm not deaf." Her head popped out and Harry jumped back with a start.

"Harry Potter! Ooh!" She squeezed rest of her body out with a squelch then swung her legs over the basin and sat on the edge simpering and batting her eyelashes behind her large spectacles. "My goodness you've aged. Rather well, I must say. And Draco Malfoy." She slid her glasses down her nose and looked seductively over the frames. "In fairness I'd say you've aged even better. _Love_ the ponytail."

"Myrtle, we're looking for our sons," said Harry. "They're missing."

"I know." She giggled. "They're making a bit of a habit of it, aren't they?"

"What do you mean? They've never gone missing before!"

"Haven't they?" She pursed her lips in thought. "Oh no. It's not in this now. It's another one."

"Not this _now_?" Harry couldn't imagine what she was talking about. "What do you mean?"

"It's hard to keep track," she complained. "They went down to the lake. Because of the Triwizard whatsit. But it was another now because of the trinket thingy. Well, you know, it's what the trinket does. Makes other _nows_."

Harry's scar throbbed. "The trinket thingy? What trinket thingy?"

She swung her legs back and forth and looked bashful. "I promised not to tell, but anyway it was a different now, so I don't think it counts. It was a pretty little thing." With the fingers of one hand she made a circular movement over the cupped palm of the other to demonstrate.

"The trinket? You can't mean—the trinket isn't a—Time-Turner?"

"That's it!" Myrtle snapped her fingers with a plop. "A Time-Turner."

"I don't believe it!" said Harry. He stared at Draco. "They've got a Time-Turner! They can't have got their hands on the one—Merlin! I've got to get back to the Ministry!"

"Not without me you don't!" Draco grabbed Harry's sleeve. "You know something about this, Potter, don't you! Has the Ministry got a Time-Turner?"

Harry didn't reply.

"Answer me, Potter! I have a right to know!"

"We're about to find out," said Harry. "Let's go and see the Minister. And let go of my sleeve."

By the time they got to the top of the stairs leading to Professor McGonagall's office, Harry was desperately trying not to let Draco see how out of breath he was. "What's . . . password?" he gasped.

"How the devil should I know?" panted Draco. "Something Scottish I expect."

" _Auld Lang Syne!_ " said Harry hopefully.

" _Tatties and neeps,_ " Draco tried.

" _Single malt!"_

" _Haggis!"_

The door opened. "The password, gentlemen, for future reference, is _Heart of Midlothian_. Do come in."

"Sorry, Professor, no time to stop!" said Harry heading for the fireplace without pausing.

"Indeed. Apologies!" said Draco elbowing Harry aside as he leapt into the grate.

.

* * *

.

They scrambled out of the same hearth at the Ministry which was not designed for double occupancy and resulted in Harry falling out in an undignified fashion and Draco landing on top of him.

"Get off me!" He tried to push Draco away.

"I'm not here by choice, Potter," Draco snarled. "You're lying on my robes."

When they had disentangled themselves in front of a small but appreciative audience who applauded enthusiastically, they dashed for Hermione's office.

.

"Is she in?" Harry asked Ethel without taking time for his usual friendly greeting.

Ethel looked put out. "The Minister is in her office, Auror Potter."

Harry barged straight in.

"Harry? And Draco!" Hermione's eyes widened in astonishment. "It's polite to knock you know. I could have been in a meeting."

"It seems that Albus and Scorpius have got their hands on a Time-Turner," said Harry. "It can't possibly be the one I retrieved from Nott, can it? You did lock it away very securely, didn't you?

Hermione went pale. Then she went red. "Of course I did." Her voice lacked the conviction Harry wanted to hear.

"Get it," said Harry.

"What?"

"Get it. Get the Time-Turner. I want to see it."

"Are you ordering me around? Can I remind you, Harry, I'm the Minister for Magic."

Harry put his hands flat on her desk and leaned forward so that his face was barely a foot from hers and shouted in capital letters. "GET THE BLOODY TIME-TURNER NOW!"

Hermione surrendered and stiffly walked over to a huge, ornate, glass-fronted bookcase.

"Please tell me you didn't put it in a bookcase," said Harry.

Hermione pulled the doors open.

"And please, please tell me you didn't keep it in an unlocked bookcase!"

"It's not just any bookcase," said Hermione. "It's well protected. I suggest you keep back. It might be dangerous." She pulled a book out from the middle shelf and opened it.

Several of the pages fluttered like fragile wings, then in a breathless feminine voice it spoke: " _Ministry me, riddle me ree. I'm found, I'm solved, my secrets free. Nothing further here to see."_

"That's not right!" Hermione started to shiver and lifted her wand. Her voice trembled as she made a complex hand movement and said, " _Praesidium abstrudo occultatio locus. Accio!"_ A fat book on a high shelf started to slide back and forth between the books on either side until it pulled itself free and fell backwards off the shelf. It landed open on the floor at their feet revealing an empty cavity inside. Hermione sank to her knees staring at it as if she could not believe what she saw. "It's not here. It's gone! But it can't have!"

"I think you'll find it patently can," said Draco icily.

"I didn't think I would ever get to say this to you," said Harry. "Hermione Granger, you are an idiot!"

"And I didn't think I would ever find myself agreeing with you, Potter," said Draco through teeth so tightly gritted his lips hardly moved. His voice was cold with fury. "So the Ministry did have a Time-Turner after all. What else have you been keeping to yourselves?"

"I only learnt of its existence three days ago," said Harry. "We wasted no time in getting it back and I lost—" He glanced down at Hermione. This was not the time to complicate matters.

"What do we do now?" said Draco.

"While we're here, I think we should go to the Time Room," Harry said. A contrite Hermione was still kneeling on the floor staring at the book. "I daresay the Minister needs to revise her security arrangements."

.

* * *

.

"Another first," said Draco, his eyes following the tiny bird in the bell jar as it rose and fell. "This light's too bright for me. I wouldn't be surprised if it sets off one of my migraines."

"Don't be such a big baby," said Harry. "Follow me."

.

They found Hector and Erasmus intently studying the tabula temporum.

Draco stared at it in amazement. "It's moving!" he said, looking closely. "It's like"—

—"a river, said Harry. "We've already established that."

Draco looked daggers at him.

"Ah, Auror Potter. Mr Malfoy." Hector nodded a greeting. "Is there any news of your sons? I was very sorry to hear of their disappearance, but boys will be boys. I'm sure they will come home when they are hungry. I remember once myself, I—"

"Hector." Harry stopped him before he could continue his reminiscence. "I believe"—Harry tried to sound as if he was not admitting gross negligence—"it is possible that my son and his friend have obtained the Time-Turner and may be attempting to use it."

Hector and Erasmus looked at each other. Erasmus swallowed. "Ah. It so happens we observed a new Time-Path had appeared overnight."

Draco's brow creased. "A new Time-Path. What does that mean? Why do I not like the sound of it? Potter?"

A chill trickled along Harry's spine.

"Answer me, Potter!"

Hector shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy. The boys are not in our own Time-Path anymore."

Draco's face took on the colour of raw pastry. "So how do we get them back?"

"It cannot be done," said Erasmus.

"Ridiculous," said Draco. "Impossible."

"Merlin!" Harry's shout was almost a scream. "There has to be a way! There has to be!"

"If we had another Time-Turner—" said Draco.

"Even if you had another Time-Turner," said Erasmus, "it would be no use. You might—in theory—go back to the point at which the paths diverged, but—"

"When _did_ it start to diverge?" Harry asked.

"The new Time-Path began to form on the twenty-fourth of November 1994."

"But that was the date of the first task in the Triwizard tournament!" With a shock Harry remembered what he had told Megan about his dream.

"Did they go back there on purpose?" said Draco.

Harry nodded. "I think they went where they meant to go, but I have no idea why."

"So," Draco continued, "if we had another Time-Turner, we could follow them back there."

"But Mr Malfoy," said Erasmus. "You have no way of knowing what course of events has occurred on the other Path—or even if the Time-Turner remains in the boys' possession. The new Path might be almost the same as this one. It might be completely different. But you would almost certainly create yet another Time-Path from which you might never return. Even if you somehow managed to follow them, you would likely cause catastrophic disturbance to the flow. And in any case since the second Time-Turner was lost, there is no such device."

Draco swallowed and clenched his fists.

"Merlin. Oh Merlin!" Harry buried his head in his hands. "Albus, son!"

"Gentlemen," said Hector lifting his head from where he had been peering through the Chronocular. "Erasmus is correct, but if there is one thing that I have learned, it is that when someone develops a taste for interfering with the past—and has the ability to do so—they are unlikely to stop at just one occasion."

"What do you mean?" said Draco.

Harry lifted his head. "You think they will use the Time-Turner again?"

"I believe they already have. Please." He held out the Chronocular.

Harry took it. Hardly daring to look, he focused the device on the new Time Path. A trail of golden particles had appeared, moving in a trail of faint, irregular sparks moving against the flow of time. A tiny golden whirlpool was spinning at the fork where the new time path had diverged from the main path. "They've gone back to the point where the new path started!"

"I suspect, Auror Potter," said Hector, "that the boys are attempting to find their way back on to our own Time-Path."

Harry stared at the Tabula Temporum. "I think we should go back to Hogwarts. Perhaps Myrtle can tell us more. And if they do find their way back, I want to be there."

.

"And, Potter," said Draco, as they hurried to the Ministry Floo entrance, "what _second Time-Turner?_ I knew you weren't telling me everything."

"There's nothing to tell, Malfoy," said Harry. "Yes there was another one. We don't know where it came from and it got left behind in the past. We don't have it now, so there's no use worrying about it."

.


	15. Act 2, Scene 8: Children Ankle Deep

**ACT II**

 **SCENE VIII**

 **.**

 **THE HAPPY CHILDREN ANKLE DEEP**

.

"Back again, Auror Potter? And Mr Malfoy." Professor McGonagall's quill paused mid-stroke, and she peered at them over her spectacles. "I had put some newspaper on the floor, just in case. Is there a new development?"

Very briefly, Harry considered mentioning the Time-Turner and decided against. "I'm afraid not. But we'd like to speak to Myrtle again."

"Well, good luck to you there," said the professor. "I dare say the two of you stand as good a chance as anyone of getting some sense from her."

.

* * *

.

Myrtle popped her head out of the basin overflow like a horrifying balloon. "The headmistress isn't here," she said.

"Why should she be here?" asked Draco.

Myrtle squeezed the rest of her body through the small opening, stretched, and seated herself between the taps. "She was here just now. I thought you were looking for her."

"Professor McGonagall was here?" Harry was confused. "But we only left her office a few minutes ago!"

"Oh yes, I forgot." Myrtle looked thoughtful and twisted a lock of transparent hair between her transparent fingers. "She was here just now with the two of you. Only it wasn't this now. It was another one. That's why your hair's different. I prefer it like this. Tousled. Bed hair." She winked seductively at him.

"She means another Time-Path," said Draco. "She means that on another Time-Path we were in here with Professor McGonagall. And you had a better haircut."

"A parallel Time-Path?" said Harry. "Is that right, Myrtle?"

"Para-lel," said Myrtle in a sing-song voice. "Para-lel. What a lovely word. I'm going to use it again and again."

"The headmistress. Professor McGonagall. What was she doing here?" asked Harry.

"Well she was looking at the parallel map thingy. Trying to find the parallel missing boys."

Harry blinked, "You mean the boys are missing in the other Time-Path too?"

"Of course they are!" said Draco. "It's what the old bloke in the Time Room said. They're trying to find their way home!"

Harry and Draco looked at each other. "Merlin, I hope you're right!" said Harry.

"So do I," said Draco.

"You said Professor McGonagall was looking at a map thingy?" Harry asked Myrtle.

"Yes. You know, the one those naughty boys Sirius Black and James Potter made. Then those other naughty boys—the Weasley twins—had it. Then you did. Have you lost it?" she giggled. "How parallelly careless!"

"The Marauders' map!" exclaimed Harry. "I never thought of that!"

Draco sighed. "The Marauders' Map. What a thrilling voyage of discovery I am on, to be sure."

.

* * *

.

"Oh dear, Potter, I think you might have been burgled."

It was true that a drawer James had turned out onto the living-room floor in urgent search of something had still not been cleared away. Harry and Ginny had, after all, had more important things to think about in the last couple of days. But in Harry's opinion the house did not look as if it had been burgled.

"Piss off, Malfoy," he said. "We can't all live in palatial country seats with an army of house elves to look after it. This is homely."

Draco followed Harry into the kitchen. "Interesting artwork." He examined a picture of Albie which had been painted by Lily at the age of four. The image bore no resemblance to any sort of dog, and it was pink. When he had asked Lily why she had coloured it pink instead of black, she had answered with perfect logic, "Because it's my favourite colour, Daddy."

Draco picked up the green and orange tea cosy Molly had knitted last Christmas and rubbed it between his fingers. "I like it, actually."

"Living in a fifty-roomed mansion! I should think you do."

"Barely forty in fact, Potter. But I meant this. I like this."

Harry stared at Draco suspiciously.

"I mean it, Potter. The manor is . . . it's very big. It's big when Scorpius is at home. When he isn't there it's positively . . . desolate."

"Oh." Harry was at a loss for what to say. An insult or sarcastic comment seemed inappropriate.

"Astoria made it bearable. I'd happily have lived in a hole in the ground if she'd been there. Now it's an empty place."

Harry thought Draco was about to cry. "I'll er . . . go and find the map," he said and hurried out of the room.

The little plastic suitcase was nearly empty without the blanket and the cloak. A naked and broken Action Man was bent into the corner. Naked and broken. Harry knew how the toy figure felt. He took the map and put it into the inside pocket of his robes without looking at it.

When he came back downstairs, Draco was staring out of the window. His eyes were pink. "Hay fever," he said.

"It's that time of year," agreed Harry. He opened a box on the mantelpiece and replenished the rapidly diminishing tin of Floo powder he kept in his pocket. "Here." He offered the box to Draco. "I expect you're running low too."

"Oh," said Draco. "Yes. Thanks, Potter."

.

* * *

.

Harry opened the map and laid it out on top of a wide wooden chest in a passage near the kitchens. He munched thoughtfully on a slice of treacle tart one of the Hogwarts elves had pressed on him and which he had not attempted to decline.

Draco, who, unlike Harry, seemed able to eat the soft pastry without dropping crumbs down his chest, dabbed fastidiously at the corners of his mouth with a snowy handkerchief. "I've never seen this before." He turned the map slightly to see it better. "I always did wonder how you avoided being caught in all the places you weren't supposed to be. I can't deny it's a clever piece of kit. Nearly everyone's in the hall at dinner. Except for your son, here." He prodded the map. " _James Sirius Potter_. Lurking outside the Ravenclaw girls' dorm. Living up to his namesakes."

"What?" Harry grabbed the map and looked. "Bloody hell, that's not what I gave him the cloak for!"

Draco snatched the map back. "It has the ghosts on it as well. What do you think Peeves is doing in the Astronomy tower? And there's Nick in the next corridor. Shall we have another word with him?"

"I don't suppose we've got anything to lose."

.

.

"Harry! And Draco!" Nick held his head steady while he performed a joyful somersault in the air. "You don't mind if I call you Draco, do you? So much more friendly. I did not expect to see you again so soon. It is soon isn't it? One does tend to lose track. I would be most honoured—most honoured! if you could grace me with your presence at this year's Deathday party."

"Ah." Harry groped for an excuse to refuse.

"I'm sure Potter would be delighted to attend," said Draco.

"Of course," said Harry forcing a smile. "And Mr Malfoy will be pleased to accompany me. Thank you so much for the invitation."

Nick clasped his hands before him as if in a prayer of gratitude. "Oh my, what an honour indeed! Gentlemen with your presence it will be an occasion of such merriment and pleasure as has not been seen in years. I can hardly wait!"

Draco looked askance at Harry who responded with a knowing smirk. "Nick, you recall I asked if you had seen our sons recently?"

"Indeed I do. And I am sorry to say I still have not."

"No, but I wonder . . . have you ever seen them in another . . . Time?

"Oh! Odds bodikins, what an interesting question." Nick tapped his fingertips together. "Only this afternoon—not _this_ afternoon obviously, if you follow me— an unfamiliar youth enquired after them. I have noticed them on the stairs now and then. Separately of course. very sad; very lonely both of them, being kept apart. Unreasonable of you, I thought. But they do seem to have caused a bit of a kerfuffle, disappearing like that."

"Disappearing like what?" asked Harry.

"Seems they ran away together. Thoughtless really, causing such distress to both of your families. And then there is that other—darker—time. Only your son there, of course, Draco—" He gave a little bow which Draco returned looking highly uncomfortable and nearly dropping the unfolded map he had been studying. "But I do not care for that particular time. There is such misery. Such suffering. None of the light hearted banter I so enjoy partaking of here. I fear the consequences of Scorpius's disappearance from that time will be very great. Those who helped him will not have been allowed to live."

"What are they doing?" said Harry, half to himself. "They're causing chaos! If they don't stop soon—"

"Merlin! Look, Potter!" Draco thrust the map towards him, jabbing it with his finger. "Right down at the bottom! In the middle of the lake! _Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy_ and _Albus Severus Potter_!" He shook his head. "His middle name is Severus? No wonder he thinks you hate him."

"In the lake! What the—?"

"They're moving towards the edge! Let's go. We don't want them disappearing again!"

"Sorry, Nick, we've got to go."

"Of course, of course. I'll see you at my party! We'll have such fun!"

"Potter!"

"Yes, all right, Malfoy. I have to get a message to my wife. I'll catch you up."

"In your dreams, Potter." Draco raced out of the front doors of the castle and nimbly leaped down the steps.

.

.

Harry had just caught up with Draco a hundred yards from the lakeside when he heard someone call his name and turned to see Ginny and Professor McGonagall hurrying over the grass. He paused to wait for them.

"Harry?" Ginny gripped his arm. "You said they were here!" She looked around wildly. "Where are they?"

The professor was scanning the surface of the water. "A Time-Turner, Auror Potter?" she said without looking away from the lake.

"Ginny—" said Harry.

"The professor needed to know," said Ginny.

"Quite so," said Professor McGonagall, her gaze still fixed on the water. "I eagerly anticipate hearing all about it."

Draco was intent on the map. "According to this they've reached the bank."

Harry squinted. "There's something over there!" He pointed and sprinted towards the water's edge.

.

.

The boys were lying on their backs amid the clumps of grass and sedge, feet still in the water. They were both laughing.

"Albus!" Harry pulled the sodden boy to his feet. Streams of muddy water ran from his hair and robes, and dripped from the end of his nose. He was panting but grinning broadly. Not at Harry, but at Scorpius who was now leaning against a visibly trembling Draco.

"We did it Scorp. We did it!"

"Yeah. We did." Scorpius was in much the same state as Albus and also smiling.

Ignoring Albus's soaking robes and the copious amounts of pond weed that had caught on his clothes and hair, Ginny pushed Harry aside and put her arms round her son. She started to cry in great choking sobs.

Albus patted her back with a wet hand. "Don't cry, Mum."

She grasped his shoulders and shook him hard. "Have you _any idea_ what you've put me through?" she yelled. Then she pulled him back into her arms. "My baby boy!"

"I'll take the Time-Turner now," said Harry holding out his hand. "Whichever one of you has it."

Scorpius patted his wet robes, looking distressed. "It's gone! I've lost it. I'm really sorry!"

Harry had a strong urge to shake the boy and frisk him, but Draco was looking thunderous and Harry thought better of it. Reluctantly he said. "You'd better get inside and find some dry clothes. And why aren't you wearing . . . oh, never mind."

Professor McGonagall had silently appeared at at Harry's shoulder. "I want all of you in my office. You two"—she pointed at Albus and Scorpius—"can have ten minutes and not a second longer to find some dry robes. My carpet is dirty enough without being covered in mud and pond weed as well as soot."

.

* * *

.

Professor McGonagall had many years of experience in interrogating recalcitrant teenagers and Albus and Scorpius caved in before her granite stare and freezing tone.

"We didn't mean any harm, Professor," said Albus.

"Ah," said the professor, "the eternal plaint of the convicted felon."

"Albus is not a felon!" protested Harry.

"And neither is Scorpius," said Draco.

"That remains to be seen. You boys may continue. Your parents will remain silent."

"We wanted to save Cedric," Albus explained.

"What on earth put that notion in your head?" asked Harry. "We've never even discussed it."

"I overheard when Cedric's dad came to see you."

"I thought as much," Harry muttered.

"Well, you didn't want to help him!"

"Albus, it wasn't as simple as that. And I want to know what Delphini Diggory had to do with all this."

"She helped us."

"Auror Potter!" snapped Professor McGonagall. "I wish to hear what your son has to say. Not you!"

"It wasn't fair for Cedric to die," said Albus. "So we managed to escape from the train and we went to Upper Flagley to talk to Mr Diggory. And Delphi helped us with planning and practising spells and things. And then we went to the Ministry and found the Time-Turner in Aunty Hermione's office."

Harry mentally assessed what grounds he had for arresting Delphini again. There must be plenty of scope. An accessory to theft of Ministry property. Trespass. Facilitating the commission of a crime. Corruption of a minor. Yes. He would get on to it first thing in the morning.

"You . . . _found_ a Time-Turner," said the professor. "How very convenient for you. At last the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Tell me, how did you gain entrance to the Ministry?"

"Um. Polyjuice potion."

"Polyjuice potion. Of course. You pretended to be someone who was authorised to be there, I suppose. Dare I ask who?"

Albus grimaced. "Um, I was Uncle Ron."

"And I was you," said Scorpius looking at Harry.

Harry remembered Ron behaving very oddly outside Hermione's office and hid his face in his hands. "If Hermione hears about this," he said, "you needn't expect any mercy. And don't come to me for help."

"The finer details can wait," said Professor McGonagall. "Once you were there, how did you get into the Minister's office?"

"Well, you know. _Alohomora."_

" _Alohomora._ The Minister's office can be opened by a basic _Alohomora_ charm?"

"Er . . . yes, Professor."

She held up her hand. "One moment, Albus. Auror Potter, are you aware how utterly inadequate the security arrangements are in your place of work?" Fortunately, the professor did not seem to expect an answer. "So having gained entrance to the Minister's office, where did you 'find' the Time-Turner?"

"Well that was a bit more complicated," said Albus. "But in the end we found it hidden in a bookcase."

"A—bookcase. Of course. Do continue."

"And when we went back the first time, we just prevented Cedric from completing the first task so he couldn't win. But when we returned to our own time, things were just a little bit different. Aunty Hermione wasn't the Minister and her and Uncle Ron weren't married. Uncle Ron had married someone called Padma. And Rose and Hugo hadn't even been born." He turned to Harry. "And you were different, Dad. Just a bit. Your hair was sort of funny and you were . . ."

"I was—?"

Albus studied his fingernails. "You were unkind."

Harry swallowed. "So you went back again?"

"Yes." Scorpius took over. "We went back to the Triwizard Tournament and prevented Cedric from completing the second task in the lake. But this time, when I got back to the present day, everything was totally changed. Voldemort had won the war. Professor Umbridge was Head of Hogwarts"—Professor McGonagall gasped in outrage—"and Father was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Was I really?" Draco raised his eyebrows.

Scorpius gave his father a sad look. "They celebrated . . . Voldemort Day . . . and tortured anyone who wasn't a Pureblood. And Professor Snape was still alive but he . . . he was part of Dumbledore's Army."

"Dumbledore's army still existed?" asked Harry, astonished.

Scorpius nodded. "It was an underground resistance movement. Minister Granger-Weasley was part of it. And so was Mr Weasley—but they weren't married and the Minister wasn't the Minister. They helped me get back, and because of that they were captured and I think they were probably killed. And Professor Snape was brilliant. He was a real hero. He kept the Dementors away from me long enough for me to use the Time-Turner to get back to the Tri-Wizard Tournament again." He gulped. "The Dementors got him, I think. But the very worst thing was—"

"Yes?"

"Albus didn't exist. He'd never existed."

"Because?" Harry prompted him.

Scorpius sniffed. "Because you had been killed at the Battle of Hogwarts."

Harry shivered.

"And that all happened because Cedric didn't win?" asked Draco.

"Cedric didn't just not win the tournament. We humiliated him. He became a laughing stock. And that made him turn Dark. He became a Death-Eater and killed Professor Longbottom. Before he was a professor obviously. So Nagini wasn't killed in the Battle, and Voldemort won."

"Cedric turned _Dark?"_ McGonagall said. "I would never have credited it! So then you decided to go back again on your own and make sure Cedric won after all?"

Scorpius nodded. "It's a good job I had the Time-Turner and not Albus."

The professor squeezed the bridge of her nose. "Isn't it just. And that is the point at which you reappeared back here?"

"Yes, Professor," answered Albus and Scorpius simultaneously.

"And somehow in this process you managed to lose the Time-Turner?"

"Um." Scorpius nodded vigorously. "Must have dropped it. Must be at the bottom of the lake."

Professor McGonagall folded her hands in her lap, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. No one considered interrupting her meditation. At last she opened her eyes and stood up. "Despite the fact that your motives were irreproachable, I cannot and will not overlook your actions." As she spoke she paced the length of the room. "You managed to evade the trolley witch and escape from the train. Then you sneaked into the Ministry of Magic—into the Minister's office no less! And stole a Time-Turner that shouldn't even exist! An untested and unstable prototype at that! Which you put to use with complete disregard for the consequences, and created at least— _at least!_ —two alternate Time-Paths. And could easily have made more!" Her voice rose further. "Have you any idea . . . _any idea_ —" The professor stopped pacing and glared at them.

"Sorry, Professor."

"Sorry, Professor."

"You will be, I assure you."

"Professor, may I—?" Harry said.

"No, Auror Potter, you may not. I hope you appreciate the part you yourself have played in this sorry tale. I would be quite justified in expelling the boys with immediate effect."

"Oh but—"

" _Auror Potter!_ If you want your son to remain at Hogwarts—do you?"

"Yes Professor." Harry was cowed.

"Then you shall refrain from commenting, and I shall decide what measures to take. Mr Malfoy, do you have anything to add?"

"Absolutely not, Professor," Draco said.

The door burst open and Professor McGonagall turned sharply. "Hermione Granger! Perhaps I should consider myself fortunate that you chose not to arrive by Floo this time. Are you here to offer an explanation of why the Minister of Magic saw fit to secrete an illegal Time-Turner in a bookcase. A _Bookcase_ of all things! And your office door opened by a simple _Alohomora!"_

"Sorry, Minerva—"

The professor sucked in a sharp breath and red spots appeared on her thin cheeks.

Hermione winced. "Professor, I—"

"Not now, Minister." The professor turned her attention to Albus and Scorpius who both studied the floor at their feet with great attention. "I appreciate that your intentions were good, but what you did was beyond irresponsible. Messing about with Time of all things! You will both be in detention for the rest of the year. Your evenings and free periods will be spent here in my office. In addition, there will be no trips to Hogsmeade. No Halloween Feast. No Christmas celebrations. No Quidditch. Now off to your dormitory with you. I will ask the elves to bring you a sandwich."

Heads bowed, the boys left without a backward glance at their respective parents.

Professor McGonagall sank into her chair and Harry realised with a guilty shock that the professor was an old woman. "Auror Potter," she said, "I expect you to make enquiries regarding this young woman; this Delphini Diggory person. You may visit your sons before you leave but make it quick. The password for the Slytherin common room is _Natrix._ And for goodness sake get that Time-Turner back, even if it means dredging the lake!"

"Yes, Professor, you have my word," said Harry.

.

.

At the top of the stone steps leading down to the Slytherin dungeons, Harry stopped and Ginny bumped into his back.

"Oof!" she grunted. "Have you forgotten the password? It's _Natrix,"_

"I know," said Harry. "I'd . . . like to speak to Albus alone. You don't mind?"

"Oh, I suppose," said Ginny. But Harry, please don't say anything—"

"I'll be careful," he promised.

"Go on then," she said. "I'll wait for you in the kitchens."

The wooden door at the bottom of the stairs shivered as Harry grew near, then what seemed to be a swirling pattern in the grain flared and the head of a snake, its mouth open and fangs dripping, shot out and hissed, "Password!" The forked tongue flicked in and out of the scaly lips.

" _Natrix,"_ said Harry and as the snake's head melted once more into the timber, the latch lifted and the door swung open.

Despite the bare stone walls only partly covered by green hangings, and the faintly musty smell that hung around the dungeons, the Slytherin dormitory felt safe. Harry was unable to comprehend how his son could feel differently; but that he did was abundantly clear.

.

Albus was lying on his bed fully dressed. Harry sat down beside him and fiddled with the silver fringe on the bedcurtains, trying to think of something to say. "Son," he said at last. "It's quite nice in here really, isn't it?"

"Is that what you came to say, Dad?"

"No. I came to say it's good to have you back."

"Is it?"

"What do you mean by that? Of course it is!"

Albus shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed overhead. "Thought you'd be glad to get rid of me."

"For Merlin's sake, Albus, I've been out of my mind with worry! And your mother—! Didn't you think about her? I can understand you wanting some adventure, some excitement. But that was not the way to go about it."

"I don't suppose I did think," admitted Albus. "Yeah. I'm sorry for worrying Mum."

"But not me. All right then."

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"I know you once said Severus Snape was the bravest man you ever knew. I think actually you were right. I'm kind of glad my middle name is Severus."

"Oh. Well, that's good then." Harry had, on a number of occasions over the last fourteen years, doubted the wisdom of his choice of middle name for his second son. Ginny had been against it from the start, but Harry had bullishly insisted. Snape had been brave, no doubt. But had he been a good man? Harry was less sure about that and certain he would not have been a good role model.

"You can go now, Dad," said Albus. "I'm pretty tired."

Harry knew when he was being dismissed. "All right, son." He ventured a pat on Albus's shoulder. "I'll see you soon. Send an owl, won't you? You know how happy it makes your mum."

"Yeah, Dad. Bye."

.

.

Harry was uneasy as he left the dungeon and went to find Ginny. Somewhere, another Harry in another Time-Path was desperately searching for his own son. And if Harry had understood the theory of Time-Paths correctly, that search would be in vain. He shivered.

.

* * *

.

 _Exeunt Severally_

.

End of Act 2

.


	16. Act 3, Scene 1: Many Frightening Sights

**ACT III**

 **SCENE 1**

.

 **MANY FRIGHTENING SIGHTS**

.

.

 _Harry's head only reached to Petunia's bony shoulder, and she was not a tall woman. She was looking anywhere rather than at the flower-strewn grave in front of them._

 _"Hurry up!"_ _Her voice was as sharp as he remembered._

 _The yellow flowers he held in his little hands were already starting to wilt. He stepped towards the gravestone. His socks had slipped into an uncomfortable bunch behind his heel because his shoes were a pair of Dudley's old ones and they were too big._

" _You said my mummy and daddy didn't have any friends, Aunty Petunia. But if they didn't have any friends, who put all the flowers here?"_

" _What?" At last Petunia looked at the grave. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "It must be a mistake. Or they blew over from the other graves, or—"_

 _There was a disturbance among the flowers. They moved as if something was shifting underneath._

" _Aunty Petunia what's happening?"_

" _It must be an animal. A rat! Come away, boy!" She grabbed his ear, scratching his cheek with a long nail._

 _As she twisted him around and started to push him towards the path, a voice called to him. "Harrry Potterrr!_

 _Harry turned his head as Petunia hurried him away and thought he saw a hand rise up through the flowers._

 _A hissing noise that slid through his bones said, "You are guilty, Harry Potter!"_

 _A black shadow crept from the ground and rose up and up above the grave._

 _._

 _He screamed._

 _._

"Harry! Harry, wake up!" Ginny was shaking him.

Harry sucked in a deep breath and counted to ten as he exhaled. "It was him. He's coming for me! He's coming back from the dead!"

"You were dreaming, sweetheart. It was just a dream." Her palm was warm and solid on his cheek. "You're bleeding again. You must have knocked the scab. Let's go downstairs. I'll make us a drink."

Harry rested his elbows on the kitchen table and sipped at his cocoa. "That was a horrible dream, Gin. Horrible."

"What was it about?"

" I was at my parents' grave with Aunt Petunia. But she never took me there! Then . . . a hand came up out of the ground! Voldemort's hand, I swear. Long, grey fingers with nails like claws! He spoke to me in Parsel. And I understood it, Ginny! I haven't been able to understand Parsel since he died. And he said, _You are guilty, Harry Potter._ " Harry stared into his cup. "I'm sure it was something to do with Albus." He reached across to Ginny who was sitting opposite him, and took her hand. He could feel a pulse in his finger and wasn't sure if it was hers or his own, but it calmed him.

"You think Albus is in danger?" she said.

They looked at each other. "Am I going mad?" said Harry. "Tell me I'm imagining things."

"You're imagining things, darling," said Ginny. "It's the stress. The boys are safe at Hogwarts. I'm sure they're fast asleep at this moment. But why don't we go and check? That will set your mind at rest."

Ginny took Harry's hand in one of hers, and with the other tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the large fireplace in the sitting room. "Hogwarts Kitchen," she said clearly, and they both stepped into the hearth.

Several great pottery bowls covered with white cloths were on one of the huge tables, and the warm air smelt of yeast. The light was soft and dim. A couple of elves resting in front of the fire startled awake and scrambled to their feet. "Mr Auror Potter, sir. Mrs Potter, madam," they whispered.

"Take no notice of us," Harry told them. "We're in a rush."

The deserted corridors seemed longer than Harry remembered. Their rapid footsteps and heavy breathing echoed off the bare stone and he expected that at any minute a caretaker or professor would appear and demand an explanation. But no one did. As they descended, hand in hand, to the lower levels of the castle his sense of foreboding grew stronger.

The snake's head that shot out of the door to the Slytherin dungeon demanding the password startled a squeak of alarm from Ginny.

" _Natrix!_ " said Harry impatiently, suppressing the urge to kick the door as the latch lifted with what seemed deliberate sluggishness.

They hurried through the empty common room and into the dormitory beyond. A youth scrambled out of bed and intercepted them as they passed, tugging at Harry's robes. "Auror Potter and Mrs Potter! You shouldn't be in here!"

"Craig, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, but this is highly irregular. I really can't allow you to—"

Harry shook the boy off and carried on towards the end of the dormitory, pulling Ginny by the hand.

"Please, Auror Potter!" Craig trotted behind them in his pyjamas. "You need to obtain official permission from the headmistress!"

Harry swept the curtains of Albus's bed aside.

Ginny gave a cry of distress."He's not here!"

"Where does the Malfoy boy sleep?" demanded Harry.

Stiffly Craig indicated another bed with closed curtains.

Harry snatched the hangings back. "Empty! Malfoy has gone too."

"Perhaps they've . . . gone to the toilet."

"Together!" said Harry horrified.

"I don't know." Craig shrugged helplessly.

"I suppose we'd better check," said Ginny.

The damp Slytherin toilets were tiled in pale green and comprised half a dozen cubicles and a row of washbasins with taps shaped like serpents. Each basin had a spotted mirror above it and a narrow shelf scattered with various toothbrushes, tubes of toothpaste and toiletries. Harry recognised the distinctive shape of a bottle of _Sorcier pour L'Homme_ shampoo on one. But the place was devoid of students.

Professor McGonagall, wearing her tartan dressing gown but still intimidating, swept through the doorway behind them. "What, in the name of Creation, is going on here?"

"I tried to tell him, Professor, but he wouldn't take any notice."

"Don't worry, Craig, I'm sure you did your best. Auror Potter, please explain."

"Albus and Scorpius are missing again," said Harry.

"No!" exclaimed the professor. "The stupid boys! Do you have your map?"

Harry patted his pockets. "Damn it! Malfoy must still have it."

"In that case"—A quick wand movement transformed the professor's dressing gown into her usual severe dark green robes—"Craig, wake the sixth years. We have to search the school and grounds. Auror Potter, I shall endeavour to contact Mr Malfoy without delay. I will be in my office if you need me."

Harry and Ginny found themselves alone in the toilets. Harry stared into a mirror and saw Ginny looking at him, her expression suspicious.

"What did you say to him, Harry?" she said.

"Nothing! I thought we'd reached an understanding. He seemed fine."

"Are you sure?"

Harry turned to face her. "You think he ran away again because of something I said?"

"If he did, Harry"—she looked away from him—"I don't know if I'll be able to forgive you. Get our son back."

A group of sixth years were in Professor McGonagall's office, James among them.

"I'd like to get my hands on the miserable toerag," he said to his parents. "I'd punch his lights out. He's a selfish little arse. Typical Slytherin."

"Please don't talk about your brother like that, James," said Ginny tearfully.

James coloured. "Sorry, Mum."

A cool, efficient Ravenclaw prefect said: "There's no sign of them inside the school. Someone thought they saw them heading towards the owlery some hours ago. We looked and didn't find the boys, but we found these." She held out two broken wands. Harry's stomach contracted as he took one of them.

Ginny gave a cry of distress. "That's Albus's wand. Something terrible has happened to him, I know it!"

"We should go out and look," said Harry. "We can't wait here doing nothing."

There was a leap of green flame in the fireplace and Draco stepped smartly on to the newspaper laid on the professor's hearthrug. "I haven't even had breakfast. What have they done now?"

"The map, Malfoy," demanded Harry. "Where's the map?"

Draco pulled it out of his pocket and unfolded it. "No need to panic, Potter. Look, they're on the Quidditch pitch. Let's go and—oh, Merlin!"

"What?" Harry grabbed the map.

"They've gone!" Draco grabbed it back. "Their names just—disappeared."

"Is that Scorpius's wand?" Harry snatched the second broken wand from the indignant prefect and thrust it at Draco who stared at it without moving until finally he gave a single tiny nod.

"So they don't have wands," said Draco, "and they've disappeared from the map."

"We should go over there anyway and look!" said Ginny desperately.

"There's no point," said Draco. "We won't find them. They're travelling through Time again."

"But they can't be!" wailed Ginny. "Scorpius said they had lost the Time-Turner."

"It pains me to say so," said Draco sourly, "but my son was lying."

"If I could get my hands on those two," said Ginny, "I would bang their stupid heads together so hard they'd be seeing stars for a week."

"I would welcome the opportunity to do so myself," Draco agreed.

"We'd better go to the Ministry," said Harry. "See if anyone's in the Time Room yet."

.

* * *

.

Erasmus was alone in front of the Tabula Temporum. He lowered the Chronocular and tore his attention from the map. "Auror Potter. Mr Malfoy." He nodded respectfully. "Mrs Potter." He nodded again.

"I wasn't sure anyone would be in here so early," said Harry..

"Early?" Erasmus looked taken aback. "This is the Time Room, Auror Potter. Early and late are merely abstract concepts in here. The passage of Time does not slow at our convenience." He turned back to the Tabula Temporum. "Judging by your unexpected appearance, I daresay this will come as no surprise to you. It seems someone is using the Time-Turner again."

"Where are they?" asked Harry. "Or rather, when?

"Am I correct in thinking that your sons are still in possession of the device?" asked Erasmus.

"It certainly looks like it," said Harry heavily.

"They have travelled to the twenty-fourth of June, 1995."

"The Triwizard Tournament again?" said Ginny. "Surely they aren't still trying to save Cedric? They know what happened last time!"

With a chill of fear, Harry said, "That's the day Voldemort returned. You don't think they're going to confront him?"

"Scorpius is naive," said Draco, "but not stupid. I don't know what they're playing at, but I do know I'm losing patience."

"There's nothing we can do anyway," said Harry, "except wait for them to come back."

"I fear all this disruption to the flow of Time will have dire consequences," said Erasmus gloomily.

.

* * *

.

Ethel was already at her desk and Harry experienced a fleeting moment of secretary envy.

"Auror and Mrs Potter, and Mr Malfoy. You're rather early."

"Good morning, Ethel," said Harry. "I need to speak to Hermione. It's urgent."

"The Minister is due to leave for a meeting at Gringott's in a few minutes," said Ethel. "She won't be able to see you now."

"She'll want to hear this," said Harry. "We'll be as quick as we can."

Ron was perched on the edge of Hermione's desk eating a bowl of porridge. He lifted his spoon in greeting. Hermione looked up from a document she was working on and raised her eyebrows.

"Glad to see your appetite is unimpaired, Weasley," said Draco.

Ron ignored the jibe.

"Do you always come here for breakfast?" said Ginny.

"I like to spend quality time with m'wife," said Ron mildly. "And since she's hardly ever at home, I have to come here to do it. What brings you here so early? You all look terrible!"

"Haven't had much sleep. The boys are missing again."

"Oh for goodness' sake!" said Hermione.

"Um"—Ron licked his spoon—"when did you discover this?"

"Harry woke me at about five this morning," said Ginny. "He had another dream and he—he had a bad feeling. So we went to check on Albus. And he wasn't in bed. Nor was Scorpius. They must have gone sometime after lights-out."

"They'll be all right," said Ron.

"And how have you reached that conclusion, Weasley?" said Draco.

"Well . . ." Ron looked askance at Hermione. "I saw 'em."

"What?" Hermione frowned at him. "When did you see them?"

He shrugged. "I'd been in Hogsmeade catching up with Nev in the Hog's Head, as you do—Aberforth sends his regards by the way. Nipped back through Hogwarts grounds afterwards, heading for the Floo in the kitchens. Thought I might get a bite to eat as well. I was a bit peckish."

"You're always a bit peckish!" snapped Ginny. "Get to the point!"

"I spotted 'em up on the owlery tower. Albus was with a young lady. A very attractive young lady from what I could see. Thought the love potion might have come in useful after all. Scorpius was sort of hovering in the background. Bit of a gooseberry I thought."

Harry's stomach felt as if it was full of acid. "What did this . . . young lady . . . look like?"

Ron shrugged. "It was pretty dark and they were a bit far away but she was wearing a very fetching white frock. Interesting hair. Silvery-blue. Rather striking."

"That's Delphini Diggory, it has to be! What does she want with the boys now?"

"Oh come on, Harry," said Ron. "Do I have to explain?"

"Whatever the reason is," said Harry, "it's not that. They're travelling in Time again and they don't have wands."

"Bloody hell!" said Ron.

"I want Delphini Diggory picked up and brought back here for questioning." Harry helped himself to a memo from Hermione' desktop, and scribbled a note for Jewett. "She's Amos Diggory's niece. This must be about Cedric again!"

Hermione groaned and shoved her papers aside. "Haven't they learnt their lesson?"

"It would appear not," said Draco. "I think we should go to St Oswald's and see what Mr Diggory knows."

"Ethel!" Hermione shouted. "I have to go somewhere. Reschedule the goblins please."

.

* * *

.

The entrance hall at St Oswald's was empty. A domed brass bell on the desk hopped up and down crying in a tinny voice: "Please ring for attention! Please ring for attention! Oh, please!"

Ginny pressed the button on the top and a shrill peal sounded somewhere inside the building. "Coo, thanks." said the bell happily.

Artemisia Finch emerged from a door some way down the corridor and trotted towards them. "Auror Potter! We've only just finished breakfast. I'm afraid Mr Nott isn't here. I'm sorry to say he did not return the other day. I do hope no harm has befallen him."

"We aren't here to see Nott this time," said Harry. "Tell me, have two schoolboys visited Mr Diggory recently? They would have been wearing school robes."

"Yes, Auror Potter. Two boys were here a few days ago. They visited Mr Diggory for about ten minutes—no more than that. I thought it odd they weren't at school on the first day of term."

"We need to see Mr Diggory" said Harry. "It is rather urgent."

"But of course. He's in the Day Room. Follow me." The witch led the five of them down the corridor and into a large, bright, busy room furnished with easy-chairs and small tables.

"They like an early start, don't they?" said Ron looking round.

By the tall window a plump witch was surrounded by several generations of her family. A tiny, wrinkled wizard snored gently in an armchair, a half-eaten bowl of porridge tilting dangerously in his lap, and a pair of sprightly witches were knitting furiously, apparently in competition; their needles clicking impossibly fast before them. Two old wizards were playing Gobstones in a corner, watched by several other elderly witches and wizards and a couple of nurses. There was a sharp explosion and a jet of green slime shot up and spattered the ceiling. "You was only supposed to blow the doors off," said one of the spectators and the others cackled.

.

Amos was dozing in his wheelchair near the wide fireplace. "Mr Diggory." Artemisia Finch nudged him awake. "You have visitors. Isn't that nice?"

"Auror Potter." Amos blinked. "And Mr Malfoy. And Mrs Potter, the Minister and the Minister's husband. A veritable crowd of guests. I am honoured."

"Where is my son?" demanded Harry. "Where is Albus?"

"And Scorpius!" said Draco.

"How should I know?" said Amos. "I'm just a grieving old man. My concerns do not matter to you."

"Don't play for sympathy, Diggory," Harry said. "You aren't too old to stand trial."

"For what, pray? I have done nothing wrong."

"You've taken advantage of two innocent boys!" said Ginny indignantly.

"Innocent? Rubbish. They volunteered."

"Volunteered to do what?"

"Why, Auror Potter, they volunteered to do what you should have done if you had any decency. Save my Cedric! Save the spare!"

"You used them!" exclaimed Ginny.

"How dare you, Madam! No! It was your husband who used my beautiful son!"

"Where are they?" demanded Draco.

"I don't know where they are." Amos yawned and closed his eyes dismissively.

"The last time they were seen," said Harry, "they were with your niece."

Amos opened his eyes again in apparently genuine surprise. "My niece? But I don't have a niece. I'm an only child. So was my wife."

"Then who was the young woman who came with you to my house? I thought you said she was your niece."

"No, Auror Potter. I said she was my nurse. She hasn't been working here long. A couple of weeks or so. And I haven't seen her since then. Now if you don't mind, I'm very tired." He closed his eyes again.

.

"She's not his niece?" said Ron. "Then who is she?"

"That's what I mean to find out." Hermione was rigid with tension. "Ms Finch, I want to see your employee files immediately."

Artemisia hesitated. "But those are confidential."

"And I'm the bloody Minister for Magic. Take me to them now!"

Harry was impressed. Hermione rarely swore but when she did it left you in no doubt that she really meant it. Artemisia Finch, her back stiff with outrage, stalked away followed by Hermione. Ginny glanced at Harry, then trotted after them.

"I do like a woman with a fire in her belly," said Draco.

"Keep your preferences to yourself, Malfoy," said Ron. "We're not interested."

It was less than five minutes before Hermione and Ginny came back with a miserable Artemisia Finch bringing up the rear. Hermione was holding a slim folder and her mouth was a thin line of fury. "You won't believe this." She opened the folder. "Delphini's personal details."

"Which are?" asked Harry.

"Which are precisely none." She slapped a blank page with the back of her hand. "There will have to be an enquiry into recruitment policies in these places. We need to institute a system of background checks. Oh, if only Percy wasn't away!"

"Locking the stable door etcetera, wouldn't you say?" said Draco. "We know who she isn't. We've got to find out who she is."

"Ms Finch," said Hermione.

"Minister?"

"This so-called Delphini Diggory's room. We want to see it."

.

.

A resentful Artemisia Finch led them up two flights of stairs and along a corridor to a room on the top floor. After some fumbling with a huge bunch of keys she unlocked the door and stood aside to allow them in. She started to follow them but Hermione stopped her with a gesture. "We can manage, thank you. I'm sure you're very busy. You must have plenty to do." She shut the door firmly, leaving Artemisia on the landing outside.

"Not much here is there?" said Ron twisting a foot on the bare floorboards. "Not even a carpet. Bed. Chest of drawers. Minimalist, you might say."

Harry opened the drawers in the tall chest one at a time. "All empty. No personal effects. She's not planning to come back."

Ron pulled out all the drawers and peered into the cavity inside. "Something's wedged in there!" His arm disappeared into the chest and he grimaced with concentration. "Ah, got it!" A scrap of card was grasped between finger and thumb. "It's a photograph. Of a woman." He turned it over. "There's something written on the back. It says, _Mother._ "

"Really?" Harry held his hand out and Ron passed it to him.

"Merlin!" Harry breathed. "That's not just any woman. Don't you recognise her? That's Bellatrix Lestrange!

"Let me see!" Draco snatched the picture from Harry. His eyes widened. "It is my aunt Bella, no question. But she didn't have any children!"

"Keep searching," said Hermione. "There has to be more."

Ron eased himself on to his knees and lifted the bedcover aside to see under the bed, using his wand as a torch. "There's nothing under here." He sneezed. "Unless you count dust." He heaved the mattress up and looked underneath. "Nope. nothing here either."

"I don't see where else anything can be hidden," said Ginny. "Unless there's something behind the panelling."

Hermione tapped experimentally. "Shall we dismantle it?"

Draco started to feel along the edges of the boards. "Maybe there's a false door. _Specialis Revelio_!" he cried waving his wand. Nothing happened. Everyone looked at him. He shrugged. "Worth a try."

"Just leave this to the experts, Malfoy," said Harry.

Ron clambered to his feet. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?" said Harry, alarmed.

"My knees," said Ron. "My knees cracked like pistol shots. You must have heard!"

"I don't care about your knees," said Harry. "I care about my son."

Ginny began to fiddle with a lamp mounted in a brass wall sconce. "That's funny," she said. "The lamp is burning, but it isn't even warm." She lifted the glass chimney up. A sudden loud hissing like a sharp exhalation startled them and they all turned towards it. Ginny was holding the glass away from her at arm's length, her eyes wide with shock. "I didn't do anything, honestly! Only took this off!"

Harry's legs started to shake and he grabbed at Ron for support.

"What's wrong, mate?"

"It's . . . Merlin! That noise. It's Parseltongue!"

"It never is! What's it say?"

"Um," Harry took a deep breath. "Something like, 'Welcome, Augurey'."

"Augurey?" said Ginny. "Who's Augurey?"

"I don't know. That's what it sounded like."

"Don't you think you should answer it?" said Ron.

"I think not," said Draco.

"Perhaps you should," said Hermione. "We need answers."

Harry's mouth was dry and there was a sharp, bitter taste in the back of his mouth. He swallowed and licked his lips several times. " _Show your secrets,_ " he hissed. Nothing happened and he looked at the others and shrugged, relieved. Then Ginny screamed. Hermione took Ron's arm and Draco stiffened. All the breath left Harry's lungs. His scar felt tight and sore.

Gradually at first, then with increasing speed and clarity, images began to appear on the walls. Snakes. Everywhere. Green ones, red ones, spotted striped and mottled ones. Long and short ones, fat and thin ones. Tangled together in impossible knots, tails gripped in jaws. Flat heads with hard black eyes; scaly mouths with forked tongues and curved, needle-sharp fangs. And woven between the sinuous creatures was a line of bold text. _When spares are spared, when time is turned, when unseen children murder their fathers, then will the Dark Lord return._

"What the—" Ron's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Is that a prophecy?"

"It looks like one," said Hermione. "But what does it mean—a spare?"

"Amos was banging on about Cedric being a spare," said Harry. "And it seems Delphini's got her hands on the Time-Turner."

"But . . . when unseen children murder their fathers!" said Ginny. "What does that mean? And the Dark Lord returning?"

"I think"—a cold trickle of sweat ran down Harry's spine—"it's Albus. He feels unseen."

"Oh come on, mate," said Ron. "That's a bit of a stretch. It doesn't even make sense. You think Albus wants to kill you?"

"He said he wished I wasn't his father."

"That's not the same thing at all," said Hermione firmly.

"But he did kill me."

" _What?"_

"When the boys caused Cedric to turn to the Dark and Voldemort won, I died. Because of what Albus did. So he did kill me. The prophecy is right."

"Well . . ." Hermione's brow creased. "I don't know . . ."

"I do."

"I think," Draco interrupted, "you should look up. There's more on the ceiling."

Harry didn't want to look up but he did it anyway. " _I will rebirth the dark. I will bring my father back_. Merlin! Is Delphini saying she's Voldemort's daughter?"

"That must be what it means." Hermione's face was white. "It can't be anything else!"

There was a sudden ripple in the air.

"Ah!" Draco jumped backwards as a translucent silver wolf jumped from nowhere into the room exactly where he was standing.

It spoke in Teddy Lupin's voice. "They've found a body on the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts! We need you up here now, Boss!" The Patronus shimmered and disappeared.

.


	17. Act 3, Scene 2: How All Things Are

**ACT 3**

 **SCENE 2**

 **WE MAY SEE HOW ALL THINGS ARE**

.

Artemisia Finch was energetically polishing a windowsill on the landing outside Delphini's room. Had she been listening at the door? Harry looked at her and she smiled at him. Her cheeks were a little too flushed and her eyes a little too bright.

"Ms Finch," said Hermione, "you do understand that anything you might have heard is DMLE business and strictly classified? I hope you would not think of allowing anything you might have heard to go beyond these walls."

"Oh indeed, Minister," simpered Artemisia. "Perish the thought!"

"I will have the key if you don't mind," said Hermione.

With pursed lips and evident reluctance, Artemisia detached it from the bunch and handed it over. Hermione locked the door and gave the key to Harry.

" _Sera,"_ he said, flicking his wand. Hermione's lips tightened slightly but she said nothing.

.

* * *

.

Dirty crockery and the remains of neglected breakfasts were piled in teetering heaps on the vast Hogwarts kitchen tables. Ears drooping, and round eyes downcast, the castle house-elves clustered in miserable little whispering groups, and drew back anxiously as Harry, Ginny, Draco, Hermione and Ron raced through the kitchen and up the stairs to the entrance hall. Pupils were gathered outside the castle doors,close against the protective walls; some crying, some gossiping excitedly, others silent and reflective.

.

"Mum? Dad?" James had his arm around a tearful Lily's shoulders. "It's not—?"

"We don't know who it is yet." Harry gathered his children into a tight, brief hug.

"Mummy!" Lily pulled away and ran to Ginny, throwing her arms around her mother's middle. For a moment Ginny pressed her face against Lily's bright hair. "We'll tell you as soon as we know anything, darling," she said. "Wait here."

She put her hand in Harry's and wordlessly they followed Draco, Ron and Hermione over the castle grounds to the Quidditch pitch.

A damp start to the day had given way to warm sun, and the wet grass sparkled more cheerfully than it should have done. From a distance, the body lying in the middle of the Quidditch pitch tangled in black robes looked tiny. Professor McGonagall, recognisable even at a distance in her dark green robes and tall hat was there conferring with another professor. Nearby stood a group of Aurors, tense and watchful, hands ready on wands.

"Stay here, Ginny," said Harry. "All of you. This is Auror business."

"Don't tell me what to do, Potter," said Draco. "That might be my son over there."

"Very well," said Harry. "Come with me." He set his shoulders and strode down to the pitch without looking to see if Draco was following. The group of Aurors saluted as he approached.

"Boss."

"Guvnor."

"Who . . . who is it?" asked Harry.

"We don't know yet, Boss. The headmistress is identifying the body."

Professor McGonagall came over to them, walking more slowly than usual, hunched in her dark robes. The bright sunlight made the skin of her face look dry and papery and the dark bags under her eyes were like bruises.

"Professor . . .?" Harry said.

"The body is not that of Albus or Scorpius."

Harry could not look at Draco knowing he would be feeling the same shameful relief.

"It is Craig Bowker. A sixth year."

"Oh no! I know him," said Harry. "Knew him . . . Very keen. Very conscientious."

"Yes he is—was. Now," she drew a deep breath. "You must excuse me. I have to inform his parents."

Harry watched the professor's departing figure until she was indistinguishable in the shadow of the castle. Then he and Draco walked silently back to where Ginny, Hermione and Ron waited.

.

"Harry—?" whispered Ginny,

He shook his head. "Not Albus or Scorpius."

"Oh thank . . . then who is it?"

"It's Craig."

"Oh no! Oh, his poor parents!" She buried her face in Harry's robes. Draco looked away. Ron and Hermione were sombre.

"We can't do anything here," said Harry. "My Aurors have everything in hand. We should let them get on with their job."

"As soon as I've spoken to James and Lily," said Ginny rubbing her cheeks and pulling her shoulders back decisively, "I'm going in to work. I need to keep occupied."

"And I have get back, too," said Hermione. "Ron?"

"Yeah." Ron cast a glance back at the Quidditch pitch and shivered. "It's a bad business," he said. "Think I might shut up shop for the day. Jokes don't feel quite right in the circumstances."

.

* * *

.

Hopeless and weary to his bones, Harry locked and double-locked his office door.

He retrieved the bottle of firewhisky from the bottom drawer of his desk, pulled out the cork, poured an inch into an empty coffee cup and downed it in one choking, fiery gulp.

Exhausted, he dropped to the floor in front of his window with the bottle clutched to his stomach and watched as sheets of rain poured down on to the dark forest.

"Albus. Albus! Son!" Hot, stinging tears burnt his eyes. He leaned back against the leg of his desk and gazed blurrily at the portraits on the other wall. "What am I going to do?" he demanded of them. "How can I bear it?" Loudly and bitterly he cursed Scorpius and all the Malfoys.

The next mouthful of firewhisky, straight from the bottle, did not burn; this time the heat was comforting. His chin dropped on to his chest and he allowed his eyes to close for a moment.

.

"Harry."

The voice was familiar but Harry couldn't immediately place it. His door was securely locked; he clearly remembered doing that. Even Megan would not be able to enter without permission.

"Harry." The voice was insistent. "Harry!"

Eventually, Harry lifted his head and looked around. There was no one else in the room.

"Harry. Up here." There was a spark of bright blue. One of the portraits was speaking to him. In disbelief, Harry recognised Professor Dumbledore.

"Whadda you doing here? 'S'my office. Tha's Harriet's frame. Where's she gone?"

"She is merely visiting a friend. I thought you might like to talk. It's been quite a while."

"Mm. Albus's missing. Do you know where he is? M'son Albus, not you. Is he dead?"

"I do not believe so. Though I do not know where he is, Harry. I am only a painting."

"I dunno how to do it."

"How to do what?"

"How to be a good father. Never had anyone to show me. M'just making it up as I go."

Dumbledore's cheeks were wet. "We are so blinded by our belief we know what is best for others, that we stumble through the forest of love, inadvertently treading tender shoots beneath our careless feet."

"Thassa metaphor," said Harry wisely.

"I made a great many mistakes," said Dumbledore.

"I made mistakes too. Speshly with Albus."

"Perhaps so. But you will make things right, I am sure of it."

"How? How can I do that? He's lost. Lost in Time."

"I am sorry, Harry."

"I died once, y'know."

"I know."

"That . . . thing you showed me. That helpless . . . creature. It was Voldemort wasn't it? His . . . soul?"

"You might call it that, yes."

"Has he come back again?"

"I do not know, Harry. I am sorry. I am only a painting."

.

.

Harry opened his eyes. His neck was stiff and he rolled his head from side to side to loosen it. The canvas was blank. _What a pointless dream,_ he thought. As if somehow dreams should always have a point. He shuffled into the bathroom and plunged his head into a stream of cold water, ignoring the toilet when it greeted him and asked how he was.

His own haunted eyes stared back at him from the mirror and he leaned his wet forehead on the cold glass so that he could not see them, until he became aware of a steady, insistent tapping. For a while he ignored it but the sound continued, tireless and irritating, until after a while he blew his nose, washed his face, scrubbed a towel over his head and unlocked his office door. The noise was coming from a determined little interdepartmental memo with a very battered corner. He plucked it out of the air, and was about to push the door shut when a large, perfectly manicured hand stopped him.

.

"Malfoy. What do you want now? I'm not in the mood."

"I need to talk to you about something, Potter."

"What's so urgent?" Harry stood aside reluctantly as Draco entered.

"Hadn't you better look at that? It might be important."

"What? Oh." Harry remembered the somewhat creased memo he was holding and opened it.

 _Prophet has run article about Voldemort's daughter. Cat well and truly out of bag. Am calling emergency meeting this morning. Be there. H._

"Damn it!" Harry dashed out to Percy's desk and discovered the morning's paper among the growing pile of letters and files. He read the headline aloud with growing fury. " _Exclusive! Voldemort's Secret Love-Child Working in Yorkshire Care Home!"_

"How did they get hold of this?" said Draco behind him.

"It must have been the Finch woman," said Harry. "I'm sure she was listening at the door."

.

* * *

.

The atmosphere in the meeting room this time was not excited, it was suspicious, anxious, and subdued. Witches and wizards gathered together in couples and small groups, muttering and rustling papers but growing conspicuously quiet as Harry passed by on his way to the podium.

.

He sat at the back of the stage with a good view of the audience, surprised to see Professor McGonagall there again. A small group of Aurors including Jewett and Teddy Lupin were gathered near the door. Teddy grinned and waved at him. Harry gave a brief, businesslike nod of acknowledgment.

Ginny was leaning against Ron, his arm around her shoulders. Draco was standing alone. His expression was grim, and there was a distinct space around him.

.

Hermione rapped on the lectern with the handle of her wand. "Good morning everyone! Thank you for attending this second extraordinary meeting in two weeks. I do appreciate your forbearance."

There was a dissatisfied answering murmur from the floor.

"I have an important announcement to make," she said. "Please, can I request any questions be kept for later." She straightened the collar of her robes and cleared her throat. "I expect you will all have heard of the shocking events at Hogwarts School, but for anyone who hasn't, the body of a student was found on the Quidditch pitch this morning at around eight o'clock. The body has been identified as that of Slytherin sixth year Craig Bowker. A popular and promising young man with a bright future ahead of him. We do not yet have full details, but the death is being treated as suspicious. I am sure you will all join me in a minute's silence in memory of Craig." She bowed her head and a faint rustle rippled through the room as the audience followed suit. Harry stared at his feet.

After a while Hermione lifted her head. "This tragic death is being linked with the disappearance of two boys. The sons of Head Auror Potter and Mr Malfoy."

"Are the boys suspects in the case?" called a voice.

"Questions afterwards, please," Hermione reminded the crowd. "We are very keen to establish the whereabouts of a young woman named Delphini Diggory." She waved her wand and an image of Delphini's face hovered over the stage. "If anyone has any information about this person, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement needs to know without delay." The image faded and Hermione made a show of tidying her papers though in fact there was only one. "I will take questions from the floor now."

"So what about this then?" Someone waved a copy of the Prophet in the air. "Is it true?"

"As part of an ongoing investigation," said Hermione, "we conducted a search in the room of a staff member at St Oswald's yesterday. We did find some material of a suspicious nature, but I am unable to offer any more detail at this time."

"Minister," a clear voice called from the back of the room. "Julius Phipps, _Daily Prophet_. Can you confirm or deny reports that the staff member in question is none other than _He-who_ —Voldemort's—daughter?"

"Voldemort's _daughter!_ " Professor McGonagall's unmistakable piercing tone broke through the growing rumble of anxious confusion. "Regretfully I have not had time to peruse this morning's paper. Am I given to understand that this Delphini Diggory is said to be Voldemort's _child?_ And am I also correct in thinking that Auror Potter did, in fact, recently have this Person in custody and released her without charge?"

The crowd rippled with anger.

"Auror Potter! Julius Phipps thrust his arm in the air again. "Can we have a statement from you please?"

Harry stood up and stepped forward to Hermione's side. "We did not have any evidence against Miss Diggory," he said. "Indeed, at that time, we had no indication that any crime had been committed. According to article 7b in the statute of 2013—with which you are all no doubt familiar—I was obliged to release her."

"So why can't you apprehend her again?" asked someone else.

"We have been unable to locate Miss Diggory at . . . er . . . the moment," said Harry, knowing the audience would not be satisfied with such a feeble response.

The murmurs of discontent did not settle when Hermione spoke again. "We are conducting urgent inquiries into her true identity," Harry could hear the tension in her voice. She was close to losing control of the meeting. "We have requested help from the international wizarding community. But she is . . . out of reach at the moment."

"Out of reach, how?"

Hermione cleared her throat several times. "We believe she has hidden herself—in Time."

The grumbling increased in volume but Professor McGonagall's voice cut through as clear and cold as ice. "Do I take this to mean, Minister, that the Time-Turner—"

Hermione gave a tiny groan of despair and Harry buried his face in his hands. The unhappy muttering among the audience grew louder and the words ' _Time-Turner!_ ' started to circulate as if infectious.

"—an illegal Time-Turner at that!" Professor McGonagall continued. "Which was previously in your own possession but so insecurely stored that it could be taken by a pair of teenage boys! That the same Time-Turner _allegedly_ lost in the Black Lake yesterday, is not in fact lost at all and is now being used by someone apparently claiming to be the child of Voldemort? Whose intentions, presumably, are far from benign? Do we expect to start blinking out of existence at any moment because some dark witch caused us not to be born? Or I suppose that at any moment we could find ourselves in a world where Voldemort won the war all those years ago!"

The rumble turned into a roar and the atmosphere in the room became one of near-panic. As well as the words _Time-Turner_ , Harry started to hear _Irresponsible_ , _Incompetent,_ and _Motion of No-Confidence_.

Hermione looked helpless and Harry gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Can I ask you all!" she shouted, "to be extra vigilant, and if anyone knows anything—anything at all—about this woman, Delphini Diggory, please let us know! And in the meantime do try not to worry!"

"Not worry? _Not worry_?" A very tall wizard jabbed a long finger in Hermione's direction. "Are you insane, woman? Let me out of here!" Half the audience started to dash for the exit along with him.

Teddy Lupin appeared at the front of the stage and beckoned Harry over. "A Time-Turner, Boss? Really? Is that what we were looking for in Nott's shop?"

"I'm afraid so," said Harry. "But it seems all attempts at secrecy are redundant now."

"Wow!" Teddy looked ecstatic.

.

.

The last of the audience had gone, drifting away in anxious silence. Ginny sat alone, hunched on the edge of the stage, the rigidity of her spine a clear warning to anyone who might try to engage her in conversation. Harry had half an eye on her but kept his distance. Hermione was sitting on a chair and Ron was on another in front of her. Hermione's feet were in his lap and he was rubbing them with an expression of deep concentration on his face.

"Hermione," said Harry, "what McGonagall said about Delphini changing time and half of them ceasing to exist—you know that can't happen, don't you?"

"Of course I do." She sighed. "Would you have wanted to give that lot a lecture on the principles of alternate Time-Paths? If I tell them two teenage boys and a prototype Ministry device are missing, they'll insist on another half-dozen interdepartmental meetings and a Wizengamot hearing before anything happens. I tell them Voldemort might return, it galvanises them into action. The important thing now is to get the boys and the Time-Turner back!"

Harry walked down the central aisle between the rows of chairs to where Draco was pacing back and forth across the back of the room. He kept his voice low. "This—claim Delphini seems to be making—"

"The one about her being the secret love-child of the Dark Lord and my Aunt Bellatrix you mean?"

"Mm. That's the one."

"Stupid," said Draco.

"Beg pardon?"

"Not you, Potter. Though I do wonder sometimes."

"You don't believe it then?"

Draco sneered and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you are stupider than I thought. Of course I don't! Aside from the fact that the Dark Lord's primary aim was immortality, thus negating any need he might have had for an heir, would he have even contemplated sharing his power?" Draco did not wait for Harry to answer. "Of course he wouldn't! And my mother and aunt Bellatrix were very close, even though Bella was as nutty as a fruitcake. I hardly think she'd have been able to hide a pregnancy from her own sister when they were living in the same house. In addition to which, my mother would dearly have loved another child. Would she have allowed her sister's baby to be fostered out to a stranger? The pride of the Malfoys would never have allowed it! The whole notion is as deranged as the idea that I would travel back in time to allow the Dark Lord to"—his voice shook with fury—"impregnate my wife!"

A pink memo fluttered towards them and dropped to the floor at Harry's feet. Harry picked it up and unfolded it.

 _Auror Potter_ , he read, _Please come to the Time Room at your earliest convenience as there has been another development. E. Prince._

In breathless disbelief he read it again, then handed it to Draco. "Follow me!"

Without even shutting the door behind them, he raced to the Department of Mysteries with Draco hot on his heels, and dashed into the long Time Room chamber.

"Ah, Auror Potter and Mr Malfoy," said Hector looking relieved. "The Time-Turner is travelling again."

"Please"—Erasmus handed Harry the Chronocular—"see for yourself."

Harry focused the Chronocular and saw a shimmering trail of gold flecks moving against the flow of the Time Path. He followed the trail back in amazement. "Nineteen ninety-two . . . ninety. . . eighty-eight . . . eighty-four . . ."—until it ended in the tiny golden whirlpool that was the active Time Turner—"Nineteen eighty-one?" Then, as Harry watched there was a blinding flash. He gave a shocked exclamation and jumped back, squeezing his eyes shut against the glare imprinted inside his eyelids. When he could see again and focused the Chronocular back on the Tabula Temporum, the flow had settled back into its normal steady pattern. Just a few fading flickers of gold remained.

"What's happened?" said Harry. "I can't see any disturbance at all now. Where's the Time-Turner gone?"

Hector and Erasmus looked at each other.

"Erasmus?" said Hector.

Erasmus's breathing was shallow and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He wiped his face with the loose sleeve of his robes and shook his head. "The Time-Turner must have been destroyed! There is no longer a trace for us to follow. And there is no way for the boys to find their way back on to our own Time Path."

There was a terrible silence. It seemed no one even breathed for several seconds. Draco walked away to the other end of the room and stood with his back to them. His shoulders were visibly shaking but no sound escaped him.

Harry's self-control collapsed. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Erasmus. "My son! You meddling idiot, Prince! You've lost my son, curse you!"

Erasmus bowed his head.

Hector caught Harry's sleeve. "Please, Auror Potter."

Harry lowered his wand in defeat. "What can we do?" he said. "There must be something. Surely—"

"Perhaps there is," said Draco. "There's something I— Can we go back to your office?"

.


	18. Act 3, Scene 3: Get Back by Day

**ACT III**

 **SCENE III**

 **.**

 **I NEVER CAN GET BACK BY DAY**

 **.**

 **.**

"On that other Time-Path," said Draco, "I was Head Auror. This would have been my office." He slid a smooth finger along the back of the leather couch.

"So?"

"I never had ambitions in that direction. Seems an odd thing for me to do. The ceremonial robes are positively horrible. Perhaps they were nicer there."

"Did you actually have something to say, Malfoy, or are you just here to make small talk?"

Draco folded his hands behind his back and wandered over to Harriet Vane's empty frame. "There's another Time-Turner."

"What?" Harry patted his ear in case it was blocked. "Say that again."

"There is another Time-Turner." Draco turned to face Harry. "I have it."

Harry was speechless.

"Close your mouth, Potter," said Draco.

Harry did. "How . . . I mean, _how_?"

"My father had it. He gave it to me when I got married."

Harry was finding his collar rather tight. "And you kept it secret all that time?"

"Of course I did! If anyone had known about it—known that I really could have gone back in time—the demented rumours about Scorpius would have been even worse."

"But you waited until now to tell me? Don't you think we could have used it sooner?"

"Of course I thought about it, Potter. I'm not an idiot. But we couldn't have used it, could we? The boys had already created a new Time-Path. And how could we have appeared at the Triwizard Tournament without being seen?" Draco reached inside his robes and withdrew something that just fitted into his palm and glinted gold with a sparkle here and there of bright gemstones. He held it out on the flat of his hand. It was ornate; gold, with the Orobouros depicted in tiny red jewels around the outer ring.

"But this is—" Harry forced his hand to stop shaking and took hold of the Time-Turner. "Where did this come from?"

"My father claimed to have found it in the Department of Mysteries, the night of the battle—you know."

Harry traced the shape of the serpent but didn't answer.

"Once"—Draco laughed awkwardly—"he told me that it literally fell into his hand, but I think he realised that made him sound crazy so he said he just found it. I don't believe he ever used it himself."

"Are you suggesting we go back in time and _look_ for the boys?"

"I am. We know roughly when the other Time-Turner was destroyed. We don't know where it was, but surely that's better than nothing.

"We don't even know where to start."

Draco took the Time-Turner from Harry's limp grasp. "Well I know where to start if you don't, Potter."

"Where?"

"In the Time Room of course."

.

* * *

.

"Mr Malfoy," said Hector. "Did I hear you correctly? There is another Time-Turner? How on earth—?"

Without speaking, Draco showed Hector who took it and held it in cupped hands as if it was as fragile as a soap bubble.

"Erasmus!" cried Hector. "You must see this!"

Erasmus came to look. With the tip of a bony finger he touched the device as if expecting it to disappear. "But this is the same one—"

"Yes," said Harry. "It's the one that . . . was lost in the Department of Mysteries."

"What? Potter?" said Draco. "You've seen it before?"

"Yes," said Harry, his throat tight. "I saw someone throw this Time-Turner to your father."

"Time is indeed a great mystery," said Erasmus.

Harry, Draco and Hector all looked at him. "You don't say," said Draco. "But we intend to go and search for our sons."

"You want to search for them—in Time!" Hector looked dreamy. "What a concept. What an ambition! I fear though, not without difficulties. Not at all without difficulties."

"We don't expect it to be easy," said Draco.

"It is my opinion," said Erasmus, "that the risks are too great. If anything should go wrong and you are unable to return to this point, you will, to all intents and purposes, be dead here. You have a wife and two other children, Auror Potter. Is that a chance you are prepared to take?"

Harry hesitated. "I—"

"I'll go alone then, Potter," said Draco. "Without Scorpius, there is nothing to keep me here."

Erasmus stared at his feet in silence.

"Oh dearie me!" said Hector. "Dearie me." He patted his chest. "Dearie me," he said again.

Harry closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. "No," he said. "You won't go alone. I'll need to speak to Ginny first." He opened his eyes. "I'll see you back here in . . . a couple of hours?"

Draco nodded. "That will give me time to—put my affairs in order."

Harry looked up and met Draco's expressionless gaze.

.

* * *

.

Without announcing his intention to anyone else, Harry returned to Hogwarts and made his way at speed to Firenze's home. Several indignant magpies flapped away as he approached. He opened his mouth and drew a breath to call out, but before he could utter a sound Megan's voice interrupted. "Come on in, Harry! I've got coffee for you this time." She met him at the entrance with a small, steaming cup.

Harry blew across the top and took an appreciative sip. "I don't suppose you know a young woman called Delphini Diggory? I think she's about your age."

"Sorry, Harry, I don't. That's the woman you suspect of having something to do with the boys' disappearance?"

"Are you reading my mind again or is it common knowledge?"

"A lot of people are thinking about it," said Megan. "They think she is something to do with Voldemort. That she is his daughter."

Harry groaned. "That damned article in the Prophet! Do you think it could be true? I know it sounds crazy but could she actually be Voldemort's child. Can you—feel anything?"

Megan shrugged uneasily. "I don't know what Voldemort feels like, but I don't think so. That's not what you came to ask me though."

"No it's not. Can you spare half an hour? I'd like you to take a look at something with me."

.

* * *

.

The entrance hall of St Oswald's was becoming depressingly familiar, but of Artemisia Finch there was no sign. A stout wizard showed them up to Delphini's room. "No one has been in since your last visit, Auror Potter," he assured Harry. "Your protective charm is still in place."

.

.

Megan reached out to touch one of the wooden panels that lined the small, sparsely furnished bedroom. "I take it you haven't told anyone else you were bringing me here?"

Harry was self-conscious. "They are a bit sceptical," he admitted.

"No need to be embarrassed," she said. "I'm used to it. You'd be surprised how many people don't want anyone else to know when they consult me. It gets a little wearisome being everybody's dirty little secret."

"Oh." Harry didn't know what to say. "I wouldn't put it quite like that."

"No, I don't suppose you would. There's something here that's scaring you to half to death. Why don't you show me instead of wasting time talking?"

Harry licked his lips, then crossed the room to the dim lamp that still burned in the wall sconce and lifted the glass chimney off. Even though he expected the loud hiss, it still made him shiver and his mouth go dry.

"That's Parsel?"

"Yes that's Parsel," said Harry. "And I can understand it."

"You're a Parselmouth, that's common knowledge. Why are you so surprised?"

"I'm not a Parselmouth! Not since Voldemort died."

"Really? That doesn't make much sense. How can you be sure? It's not unheard of for people to suppress unpleasant memories you know. You think your ability to understand Parsel has come back, and it's something to do with Voldemort. You're afraid he's come back too."

"Stop reading my mind!"

"Stop letting me. The ability to understand Parsel might not be as rare as you think. It probably results from a recessive gene. It's bound to crop up from time to time."

"It results from a _what_?"

"Harry, if it's important for you to know, you should ask Mum about it."

"Jules? Why would she know?"

"Well she used to be a genealogist you know. She's pretty clued up about things like that."

"I'd forgotten. But—do you think she'll want to talk to me?"

"I think she wants to talk to you very much. Please go and see her." Megan nodded at the lamp. "What did it say?"

"It said—I think— _Welcome Augurey_."

"Well I never! Must have known I was coming. Now show me what else is here."

Harry closed his eyes. " _Show your secrets,"_ he hissed.

.

"Goodness." Megan's wide gaze roamed over the tangled mess of serpents that covered the walls and ceiling.. "I see why you're so disturbed. It's not pretty is it? _I will rebirth the dark. I will bring my father back._ Is that supposed to be a prophecy do you think?"

"Supposed to be? Isn't it?"

"You're seeing what you expect to see," said Megan. "Whoever wrote this made it deliberately ambiguous. I mean: _When unseen children kill their fathers?"_

"That's Albus," said Harry. "It has to be."

"Why does it?"

"When they went back in time they . . . changed things. So that Voldemort won the war."

"Did he? Crikey!"

"It meant I died. Never married. Never had children. So you see, he did kill me."

"The thing about prophecies," Megan said matter-of-factly, "is that generally speaking, they're nonsense. They can be interpreted in whatever way seems relevant to the person hearing them. Like this. You think it means Voldemort had a child."

"What else could it mean?"

" _Unseen children'._ That could be me of course. _Rebirth the dark._ Well, how dark do you want? _I will bring my father back._ In a way I did do that. You see, there are other interpretations. More plausible ones in my opinion."

Harry felt as if a weight had lifted from him. "I suppose, now you mention it."

"You see, Harry, you must keep your mind open to all the possibilities."

"Can you sense anything? Do you know who did this?"

"Not a wizard," said Megan. "I'm feeling . . . I can only describe it as mischief. Very old mischief."

"Mischief! You mean this is some sort of joke?"

"I think the person—the being—who created this, regards it as a joke."

"But somebody was killed! That doesn't strike me as funny!"

"Whoever is responsible doesn't think like us, Harry. They do not hold human life in much regard."

"They don't? Are you saying this person isn't human?"

"No. Whatever they are, they're not human. I can't tell you much more. Strange things are happening though. Can we go back to Hogwarts? I want to show you something."

.

* * *

.

She looked up at a couple of buzzards circling in the flat, grey sky high above the castle grounds, making thin, cat-like mewling noises.

"What something?" asked Harry.

"Firenze has been teaching me—trying to teach me—how to interpret omens from the observation of bird flight. Augury, it's called."

"And?"

"I know it sounds bizarre. But for the last couple of weeks something strange has been happening. Over and over. If we wait, we'll probably see it again."

"I haven't got long. I need to visit your mum and then get back to Ginny."

"It's starting now."

Harry followed her gaze. What he had taken for a small dark cloud was unfolding above them with a faint hum. The air grew noticeably cooler as the sunlight was blocked out by a murmuration of starlings. The mottled darkness overhead spread out into a symmetrical shape: the sweeping curves of a pair of wings. As he watched, the curves thinned out and stretched into a long serpentine shape which drew together in an unbroken circle; then the cloud of starlings swept away across the sky and it was warm and sunny again.

A magpie cackled from a nearby tree and flew down on to the ground a few yards away. A second and third flapped landed close to it, hopping jerkily on the grass, cruel beaks open, making harsh, broken cries. Several more joined them.

Harry didn't need to count how many were there. "Seven magpies. A secret," he said. "Even I know that. But isn't the wizarding version of the verse different? I remember Ginny telling me once."

"It is," said Megan. " _One for the morrow, two for today,_ _Three to go and four to stay. Five for the shadow, six for the sun, Seven for the Trickster: Jack's not done."_

"Weird," said Harry, bending to pick up a pristine black and white feather.

"I would dismiss it as a playground rhyme," said Megan, "but Firenze said I shouldn't. He seemed uneasy. I think you should speak to him. He's inside."

.

.

The centaur was intent on the small pool at the base of the gentle waterfall. As Harry looked into the clear water, he fancied the swirls and eddies and bubbles formed shifting images but he blinked and the impression faded.

.

"Harry Potter." Firenze spoke before lifting his head and turning to face Harry.

"Firenze." Harry bowed respectfully.

"Megan has spoken to you of her observations?"

"She has. But she is unsure of herself."

"As should we all be. I myself have been aware of a presence recently. One from great antiquity. One I remember only from my infancy. One of great mischief more than great evil, but no less troublesome for that."

"Not . . . Voldemort?"

"No, Auror Potter. Something a great deal older."

"Older! But what is it?"

"I do not make guesses, Auror Potter." Firenze turned his attention back to the pool and Harry knew his audience was at an end.

"Sorry," Megan whispered. "He can be a bit frustrating. Go and see Mum."

.

* * *

.

"Megan told me Albus is missing," said Julia. "Oh, Harry, I wish I could help."

"You might be able to in a way." Harry looked around. "Where's Albie? He usually comes to say hello."

"He's in here." Julia led Harry through the kitchen into the utility room where the old dog was lying in his basket.

He hardly lifted his muzzle when Harry knelt down beside him. "Oh no, Jules! Is he ill?"

"He's dying, Harry. He's old, and he's pining for Simon. His heart is giving out." Her voice cracked. "And I don't think I can bear it." She knelt down beside the old dog for a moment and buried her face in his lank coat, whispering, "My faithful boy." She stroked the side of her finger along Albie's jaw but he didn't move. After a while she stood up again. "Let's go into the kitchen. Leave the old boy in peace."

.

.

Here." She put a cup of tea and a plate on the table. "Take a seat."

"You've been baking," said Harry, sitting down and taking a sip of tea.

"Yes, well you were right. Simon wouldn't want me to go into a decline. But don't think—" she swallowed. "Don't think I'm forgetting about him." She pulled out a stool and sat at the table opposite him. "What makes you think I can help?"

"I don't know if you can, but Megan seemed to think . . . I can understand Parsel."

"Parsel? Oh, snake language! I remember. It caused quite a stir when people realised, didn't it?"

"That's one way of putting it," said Harry. "But I haven't been able to understand it since Voldemort died."

"Haven't you? Why ever not?"

"Well . . . I thought it was because the part of him that was in me had died with him."

"I can't see how the ability could just disappear," said Julia. "Are you sure you didn't simply convince yourself it had gone?"

"That's more or less what Megan said.

"I know I'm biased," said Julia, "but she's a bright kid. Very bright. You should listen to her."

"I do listen to her," said Harry. "And she said: 'Go and ask my mum.' So here I am."

Julia smiled faintly. "Ask me what?"

"Why I can speak Parsel."

"The trouble with wizards," said Julia brutally, "is that you place too much faith in magic."

"Oh come on, Jules," said Harry.

"It makes you lazy," she continued. "You think it means you can ignore science."

"That's not the case at all," said Harry. "But why don't you give me some of your Muggle science."

"It's more complicated than I make it sound, but it's my theory that the ability to do magic is carried on a recessive gene."

"Recessive gene," said Harry.

She sighed. "Your eyes are glazing over already. There are diseases which are caused by particular recessive genes. If your parents have one of those genes each, they can pass the gene on to you. If you just inherit one of those genes then you won't have the illness. But if you inherit two then you will."

"I have heard of something like that." admitted Harry, "but only in Muggles."

"I believe some of those illnesses affect both Muggles and wizards," said Julia.

"Albus's friend—" said Harry. "His mother died of an illness no one was able to cure. They said it was a curse that ran in the family."

"Really?" Julia looked interested. "It sounds very much like an inherited disease. If only she had been able to see a Muggle doctor, they might have been able to help her. They're doing amazing things now with genetic medicine. Is Albus's friend all right?"

"I think so," said Harry.

"Well if he ever starts to show the same symptoms as his mother . . . you know. Might be worth a try."

"You think being able to do magic is an illness?"

"No of course not. Though some wizards think being a Muggle is. Even though I'm a Muggle, I must carry a recessive magic gene. Megan could only have inherited one from Simon, but she needs two to be a witch. My parents must have carried one magic gene each because even though they were Muggles, my brother was a wizard. He must have inherited two—one from each of them.

Harry was thoughtful. "Tell me about Parseltongue."

Julia leaned forward, her expression animated. "I think the ability to speak Parseltongue is like that. It's carried on a rare recessive gene, that probably stems from one single mutation a thousand years or so ago. So even as rare as it is, there could be thousands of descendants who carry just one of those genes. Every so often someone will inherit two of those genes. Like you. And you know there are plenty of fairy tales about ordinary people who can talk to animals."

"Fairy tales!" said Harry with a start. He put his cup down and stared at Julia. "Now that's odd."

"What is?"

"Oh, reminded me of something. Just . . . coincidence. Something I meant to ask Hector."

"You know what we say about coincidence," said Julia with a twisted smile. "I suspect a lot of people keep quiet about it or aren't even aware of it. Let's face it, unless you actually try to talk to a snake you aren't going to know are you?"

.

Julia took Harry's face in her hands as he took his leave. "You'll find Albus, Harry. It's what you do isn't it?" She kissed him on the forehead.

.

* * *

.

Harry could hear Ginny weeping inside their bedroom, but lacking the strength to hold her pain as well as his own, he went into Albus's room instead and lay down on the bed burying his face in the pillow. He wished he could cry, but his eyes felt dry and gritty. Behind him, the door opened and the mattress sank as Ginny sat beside him. He turned over and looked up at her. She seemed to have lost weight even in a couple of days. Her face looked thinner and older. Likely his did too.

"The Time-Turner has been destroyed," he said. "The boys have no way of getting back and we have no way of finding them. They're lost, Ginny! Lost somewhere in the past!"

"No! No, Harry, I don't believe it!" She started to cry again—as if there could possibly be any tears left. "They will come back. They have to!"

Harry closed his eyes. "There's another Time-Turner." He felt the bed shift as she moved.

"Another one! They seem to be popping up everywhere."

"It's not a third one," said Harry. "It's the same one Simon threw to Lucius in the Death Chamber. We—Draco and I—are going to try and find the boys. I don't know how, when we don't even know where or when they are."

"But, Harry, what if—"

"I know." He rolled off the bed and stood up. "But we've got to try." As he walked to the window, he stepped on something soft. It was the baby blanket he had given Albus, and he bent and picked it up. Unable to hold back his grief, he pressed it to his face. As he did so, he noticed a sharp smell and what looked like a scorch mark.

"What's happened to this?" He shook the blanket out, horrified to see burn marks all over the soft material. For a moment he didn't know whether his anger was greater than his grief. He wanted to slap Albus; wanted to shout and scream at him. Wanted to hold him. And he could not. Would probably never be able to do any of those things again.

"When did he do this?" he asked, "He must really hate—have hated me!"

Ginny took the blanket and looked at it. "It's an odd sort of thing to do." "Burning lines and squiggles on it. It almost"—she frowned and smoothed it out flat on the bed—"it almost looks like writing!"

"What?" said Harry bitterly. " _I hate you, Dad?_ "

"No," said Ginny. "I don't think so. The first bit looks like: 'ad'. And this looks like a capital 'H' and an 'E'. HE? Ad HE?

"Bloody hell!" Harry grabbed the blanket and took it over to the window. He swept the curtains open and held it up to the daylight. "Underneath that it looks like . . . 'rics hol'."

"That doesn't make sense. Is it another language? It's not Latin is it?"

"No I don't think so. There are some numbers too. One-dash, ten-dash, eight. Whatever it is, it's incomplete."

"Harry do you think—?"

Harry stared at Ginny. "It's a message. Our clever boy has sent us a message! We've got to show this to Hermione!"

"And Draco," said Ginny. "He needs to see this as well."

"Yes." Harry didn't hesitate. "Draco too."

.

.


	19. Act 3, Scene 4: Find the Secret Out

**ACT III**

 **SCENE IV**

.

 **I SHALL FIND THE SECRET OUT**

.

.

Hermione traced the scorch marks with her finger. "It does look like writing. But it doesn't make any sense." She looked up from her desk where the blanket was spread out.

"That's because we're only seeing a section of it," said Harry reaching across and circling the middle of the blanket with his finger. "I don't know how to expose the rest. I've tried a few spells."

"It smells a bit funny, don't you think?" said Ginny. "Sort of . . . burnt?"

Hermione sniffed at the blanket. "It must have been written with some sort of corrosive material. But why has it only appeared now? And why just a section of it?"

"We need a Potions witch," said Harry helping himself to a Ministerial memo. He scribbled a note for Teddy Lupin and sent it swooping out of the door just as they heard a disturbance outside.

Draco burst in pursued by a flustered Ethel. "What's happened now?" he demanded.

"I'm so sorry, Minister!" cried Ethel, "I tried to stop him!"

"Do come in, Draco," said Hermione. "Thank you, Ethel, I will see Mr Malfoy."

With an offended sniff, Ethel withdrew.

"Albus has sent me a message," said Harry.

Draco's eyes widened. Harry thought he was about to make a scathing remark, but instead he drew a breath and said, "Tell me more."

"Here." Harry tweaked the corner of the blanket.

Draco peered at the brown marks. "That's a message?" he said doubtfully.

"It's part of a message," said Ginny.

"What makes you think so? It could be anything!"

Ginny caught Harry's hand and squeezed. "It could be anything," said Harry squeezing back, he hoped, reassuringly, "but I have to believe it's a message from Albus. And Scorpius."

Draco was silent. Then he nodded. "All right, Potter. So what does it say, this message?" He attempted to read it. "a _d HE? ricshol?_ And some random numbers. It doesn't mean anything to me."

"I'm sure there's more of it to be revealed," said Harry. "We're waiting for someone from Potions to take a look."

Draco folded his arms and looked blankly at the flat ocean in Hermione's window. "Getting pretty good at waiting," he said.

"Um," said Harry, and there was a difficult silence which was broken by a tap at the door.

"Junior Auror Lupin, and Potions witch Elvira Smallwood, Minister." Ethel showed in a young witch accompanied by Teddy Lupin who was carrying a large basket loaded with bottles, packets and strange implements.

Thank you, Ethel," said Hermione. "That will be all."

.

.

"Minister." Teddy saluted awkwardly without putting the basket down. "Boss." He saluted again. "This is Elvira. Potions witch as requested."

Elvira smiled at Teddy and took the basket off him. "Thank you Ted—Auror Lupin. Pleased to meet you, Minister. Auror Potter. Mrs Potter. Mr Malfoy."

"Elvira," said Harry, leading her over to Hermione's desk and showing her the blanket. "I believe there's a message written on this but only part of it is visible. I need to know what the whole thing says."

"It looks like a chemical reaction," said Elvira peering at the scorch marks. She sniffed. "Smells like one too. In fact—yes, the reaction is still occurring very slowly. You see the touch of bright pink here on the edges of the damaged areas?"

Harry nodded. Ginny, Draco, Hermione, and Teddy leaned over to look.

"That's absolutely typical of the reaction that occurs between Pearl Dust and tincture of Demiguise," said Elvira. "The very slow rate of the reaction indicates that whichever of these two ingredients was on the blanket first had been there for a long time before the second was applied and the reaction began."

"How long?" asked Harry.

Elvira shook her head. "I can't say for sure, but ten years at the very least and there may not be an upper limit. But this reaction has occurred within the last couple of weeks. Do you recall anything happening to the blanket recently? Could one of those substances have come into contact with it?"

"The only thing I know of," said Harry, "is love potion. Albus had a bottle of love potion and it . . . got spilt. On the blanket."

Elvira grinned broadly. "Perfect," she said. "One of the main ingredients of love potion is Pearl Dust. That means the original message was written in tincture of Demiguise."

"I've never even heard of tincture of Demiguise," said Ginny.

"Not under that name perhaps. But in it's commonly used form I expect you have. You've heard of _Budge's Bundimun Bane?_ "

"The doxycide? Yes of course. Mum uses it all the time."

"The main ingredient of _Budge's_ is tincture of Demiguise." Elvira looked pleased with herself. "Now I know what we're dealing with, I should be able to reveal the rest of the message quite easily." She took a package out of her basket and shook a little heap of powder in to her palm, then used a soft brush to methodically work it into the fabric of the blanket. After a few minutes, she stood up straight and waved her wand over it. " _Expedito."_

Slowly, more brown burn marks began to develop.

.

After ten minutes or so, Elvira blew the dusty residue away. "The reaction has finished. This is the whole message. It looks like, ' _Dad HELP. Godric's Hollow. 31. 10. 1981'._ Does that mean anything to you?"

"Yes," said Harry, "it does. Lupin, perhaps you could help Elvira take her equipment back to the Potions department. Then you can get back to whatever you were doing."

"Yes, Boss." Teddy looked disappointed.

.

.

"Thirty-one, ten, nineteen eighty-one," said Harry when Teddy and Elvira had gone. "Godric's Hollow, thirty-first of October 1981. Hallowe'en. The day my parents were killed. Albus is telling us where and when they are. Were."

"So what are we waiting for?" said Draco. "Let's go and get them!"

"Am I missing something?" said Hermione. "How, precisely, do you propose to 'go and get them'?"

"Ah," said Harry. There's something we haven't told you."

Hermione folded her arms.

"It just so happens Draco has another Time-Turner."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Does he now," she said. "Fancy that." She gave a gentle smile that made Harry and Draco both wince. "Have you had it long, Draco?"

Draco glanced at Harry who silently willed him not to mention anything about the battle at the Department of Mysteries.

"I believe my father had it in his possession for a number of years."

"Of course," said Hermione. "Why would he not, after all. May I see?"

Draco hardly hesitated before placing the Time-Turner in her expectant outstretched hand.

"This is nothing like Erasmus's or any other Time-Turner I've ever seen," she said, "but it seems familiar. As if I've seen a picture of it somewhere. It works, I take it?"

Again, Draco cast a glance at Harry. "I believe so," he said. "I have not myself taken the opportunity to make use of it. I am, however, about to."

"You don't know where in Godric's Hollow they are," said Hermione. "You can't just turn up like time-travelling vigilantes and start searching the village. That's hardly going to be inconspicuous. You've got to be incredibly careful not to let anything change or you could end up creating yet more Time-Paths."

.

.

Ron arrived waving a bag of pastries and a tray of fresh coffee in front of him. "Thought you might be in need of sustenance," he said. "I'm afraid Ethel's most put out at being excluded. Even a vanilla slice barely appeased her. What have we got?"

"You'd better put those down first," said Harry, "and I'll tell you."

.

.

"So at some point," said Ron after he had eaten a cinnamon roll and recovered from the discovery that Draco had another Time-Turner, "the boys managed to acquire the blanket and the tincture of Demiguise. Albus knew that my love potion would get spilt on it and must have known that Pearl Dust is an ingredient of love potion and that it reacts with tincture of Demiguise. So he wrote a message on the blanket that he knew would appear now."

"It could just as well be Scorpius," Draco pointed out. "More likely, I would say."

"Whoever actually wrote it," said Hermione, "I think we can all agree it's a message from the boys."

"It's telling me to go to Godric's Hollow," said Harry. "I'm sure it is. But whereabouts in Godric's Hollow?"

"They must have taken the blanket from baby Harry," said Ron. "You could wait at Lily and James's house."

"I don't think it would be that easy," said Hermione. "The house was loaded with protective enchantments and alarms. It might even have been under Ministry surveillance. We could cause all sorts of unintended consequences and make everything worse. The exact opposite effect to what we want."

Ron was deflated. "You're right. But what else can we do?"

Draco looked thoughtful. He poked a finger into one of the burn marks on the blanket. "How did they know to do this? How did they write something that wouldn't appear until now? Even Scorpius—who has a decided aptitude for potions—is unlikely to know that Pearl Dust and tincture of Demiguise react together—or even what tincture of Demiguise is—never mind where to find it. Do you think Albus does?"

Harry rubbed his face.. "No. I don't imagine so. But they must have known, in order to do this."

"Well," said Ron, "you've got to make sure they do, er—did—know, haven't you?"

"How in Hades do we do that?" said Harry.

"Basic illusion theory." Ron wiggled his fingers. "Make them see what you want them to see."

Harry didn't know what Ron was driving at, but Draco drew a sharp breath. "You mean somehow we leave them _instructions_?"

"More or less," said Ron. "We've got to find a way of leaving messages only Albus and Scorpius will recognise."

"You make it sound so easy," said Harry.

"Well you've got a Time-Turner," Ron pointed out helpfully. "You can go back and leave something for them to find."

"So what," said Draco "do you suggest we leave, and where do we leave it?"

"If," said Harry, "we could trace their movements and figure out where they were along the way we might find something. We need to work back from Godric's Hollow on Hallowe'en and figure out how they got there."

"They must have started from Hogwarts," said Hermione. "Neither of them could apparate and Godric's Hollow is hundreds of miles away."

"And they didn't have wands," Draco added.

"Is there anywhere we could look for a clue as to where in Godric's Hollow they might have been?" said Harry.

"The Prophet," said Ginny. Everyone turned to look at her, and she went pink. "Well it's just a thought. We keep archives going back two hundred years. Obviously the attack on Lily and James—and Sirius's arrest and Voldemort's defeat—will have been all over the news that week, but there might be something useful there."

"That's a good idea," said Harry. "Can you get a run of issues of the prophet from the thirtieth of October 1981 for the following, what, week or so? And the Quibbler and anything else too."

Ginny looked animated for the first time in days. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She hurried out.

"Is there any way of checking Muggle news as well?" said Hermione.

"I wouldn't know where to start," said Harry, "but I can get any Auror reports and I—I might be able to get Muggle police reports."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "How will you do that?

"I know someone," said Harry. He stood up. "I'll have to get back to my office. I can find my own way thanks," he said as Draco followed him.

"I want to know what you're up to, Potter."

"Oh for crying out loud, Malfoy. We're on the same side. But if you really must."

"We'll come too," said Hermione. "Won't we, Ronald?"

"Indeed." Ron stood to attention and picked up the bag of pastries. He swept his hand forward. "After you."

.

* * *

.

"Right." Harry opened one of his desk drawers, waved his wand and said: " _Accio implecto,"_ and a little silvery twisted wire shot up out of a messy heap of faulty quills in a shower of feathers, pencil shavings and paperclips. "Excellent," he said. "Now I just need—" he opened another drawer. " _Accio Samsung!_ " A small earthquake happened under a stack of old memos, and a flat black object wriggled to the top of the pile. Harry picked it up and dusted it on his sleeve.

"What is that?" Draco squinted at it.

"This, Malfoy," said Harry, "is a mobile telephone. Muggles swear by them."

Draco looked sceptical. "And what are you going to do with it?"

"First," said Harry, "I'm going to remember how to switch it on." He tapped the twisted wire against his lip. "I know I have to plug this in to make it work here in the Ministry. Now where does it go?" He turned the phone over and tried sticking the wire into various holes in the side until he found one that fitted. The screen lit up.

.

There were just two phone numbers saved on Harry's phone. The first was Julia's. He called the second number.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N: Back when I started this story but didn't know when—or if—I would be able to finish it, I wrote and posted a one-shot called 'Transport Medium'. It fits into this story about here.**

.


	20. Act 3, Scene 5: Remember the Past

**ACT III**

 **SCENE V**

.

 **REMEMBER THE PAST**

.

The screen of the mobile phone on Harry's desk lit up and it vibrated loudly against the tooled leather surface. Everyone stared at it.

 _found something of interest. come to station. normal clothes plz._

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "I'll go now!"

"Well you'd better get changed," said Ginny who had just come in carrying a bundle of newspapers. "I don't think your Auror robes are what Dudley had in mind when he said, _normal clothes_."

.

* * *

.

Harry assumed his choice of jeans and a sweater was normal enough, as no one gave him a second glance in Upper Layford police station—though he wished he had chosen something cooler and less itchy. He cast a low-level persuasion charm, and the WPC at the reception desk smiled at him dreamily and told him to go straight into Detective Chief Inspector Dursley's office.

"That was quick," said Dudley drily, looking up from his paperwork. "I make it nine minutes."

In his forties, Dudley resembled a healthier version of his father at the same age. Thick set, but muscular rather than fat, he had conceded to baldness by cropping his sandy hair close to his skull and compensated with bushy sideburns.

"What have you got?" asked Harry.

Dudley tapped at his computer keyboard. "Fortunately, the new information-sharing software is working properly now. I found a catalogue entry for a report filed by a PC Alec Galbraith of the Highlands and Islands police force on the first of November, 1981. I called in a favour and had it scanned and emailed over." He jabbed a button. A few feet away, a machine whirred, and a couple of sheets of paper slid out into a tray.

Harry glanced through the typewritten report and grew warm. "I can't thank you enough! This is exactly what I was hoping for. Thanks, Dudley. I owe you."

"Not at all," said Dudley. "Just get the boy back safe, all right?" He stood up and shook Harry's hand. "If there's anything else I can do, you know where I am. Now I need to get back to work."

.

* * *

.

Harry found Hermione at his desk investigating his in-tray. Ron was lying on the brown leather couch with his feet up on the arm, eating a doughnut, Ginny was sitting on the edge of a chair worrying at the corner of a thumbnail with her teeth, and Draco was striding back and forth in front of the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

Ginny leapt to her feet. "You've been ages!"

"I've been"—Harry looked at his watch—"Fifteen minutes."

"Is that all?" said Ginny. "It seemed longer."

"Did your cousin have anything?" said Draco.

"He certainly did," said Harry. He shooed Hermione out of his chair, put the copied document on the desk and sat down. Ginny and Hermione leaned over one shoulder and Draco over the other. Ron perched on the edge of the desk brushing crumbs from his chin.

"Bloody hell," said Harry. "Can you crowd me a bit more? And you've been eating onions and fish." He glared at Draco. "Your breath is foul."

"Moules marinières," said Draco. "Credit where it's due, those Muggles do have some good ideas."

"Get back," said Harry. "All of you, but especially you, Malfoy, and I'll read it out. This is a report from Police Constable Alec Galbraith of the Highlands and Islands Police from the thirty-first of October, 1981.

 _At 11.15pm on the evening of 30th October I was beginning the return journey from Aviemore to Inverness. I had just passed the railway station when I saw someone waving from the side of the road. I stopped and found two unaccompanied boys who appeared to be about fourteen years of age. They were wearing fancy dress and I assumed they had been out trick-or-treating a day early, although there are very few residential properties nearby._ "

"What's trick-or-treating?" asked Draco.

"I know this!" said Ginny. "Muggle children dress up and go knocking on people's doors asking for sweets. If they don't get them, they play a trick."

"How utterly bizarre," said Draco. "Not to mention appallingly rude."

"Be quiet, Malfoy," said Harry. "Let me finish: _They said they had missed the last train and needed to get to Inverness to catch a bus—claiming their parents were waiting for them there. I took the boys back to the station with me. They gave their names as Arthur and Albert Harbottle and their address as 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey—_ "

"I don't think that leaves any doubt that it was Albus and Scorpius," said Hermione.

"None at all," said Harry. "— _but claimed to be unable to provide contact details for their parents. The boys seemed to have no clear plan other than that they wanted to catch a bus. I explained that there would be no bus until the morning, As the weather was poor and the station was quiet_ _,_ _I gave them a hot drink and despite their obvious reluctance, insisted on accommodating them in an empty cell._

"Oh!" Ginny sniffed and rummaged up her sleeve for a handkerchief. "If I could give Police Constable Galbraith a great big hug, I would."

"Indeed," muttered Draco.

"' _During the course of the night,"_ Harry continued, " _I contacted a number of regional police headquarters but none reported any missing persons matching the boys' descriptions_ _,_ _and no one had enquired after them, so in the morning, having no reason to take them into custody, I provided them with tea and toast and directed them to the bus stop opposite the station._ There's a closing remark. It says he looked out at the bus stop no more than two minutes after the boys had left, and he could see no sign of them although no bus had stopped there."

"They said they were catching a bus?" said Ginny. "What do either of them know about Muggle buses? Even Albus has never been on one. Dad's only got a vague idea how they work."

"It's not a Muggle bus they were going for," said Ron with certainty. "They wanted to get the Knight Bus."

"If that's the case," said Harry, "why didn't they just get the Knight bus from Aviemore?" He looked at the others as if they might have an answer.

"Don't ask me, Potter," said Draco. "Malfoys don't make a habit of travelling on the thing."

"I want to know who travelled on the Knight Bus and where to, between the thirtieth and thirty-first of October, 1981," said Harry. "I want Auror Lupin in on this."

.

.

Teddy entered carrying a heavy ledger upon which balanced a pile of tatty parchments. He plonked the lot on Harry's desk. "Here's the Auror reports and the Knight Bus log you wanted, Boss. Why so interested in this?"

"Albus and Scorpius have managed to get their hands on the Time-Turner," said Harry, "and have travelled back in Time. We believe they wrote a message telling us where they are—were."

"This is something to do with the writing on that old blanket?"

"Yes. According to that they are—were—in Godric's Hollow on Hallowe'en 1981."

Teddy was silent. His hair took on a greyish hue.

"You know what that means?"

"Yes, Boss. And does Delphini have something to do with it?"

"We don't know how exactly, but she's definitely involved."

"So it really is something to do with He-Who—Voldemort, then?" Teddy looked around, but no one answered.

.

"We've retraced some of their movements," said Harry at last. "We think they travelled from Aviemore to Inverness then got the Knight Bus from to Godric's Hollow. But we need to know for sure. And we don't know why they wanted to go to Inverness."

"Crikey. Best get to work then, eh?" Teddy opened the book somewhere near the middle and turned a few pages. "Ha! Look. This is why." He peeled off a memo that was attached to the top of the page and held it up. " _1st October 1981. Department of Wizarding Transport: efficiency savings measures._ _Due to significantly reduced demand, the Knight Bus will no longer collect passengers from the Scottish Highlands during the school term. The nearest pick-up point will be Inverness."_

"For crying out loud," said Harry. "Efficiency savings measures?"

.

Teddy turned a couple of pages further on. "Here's what you're looking for, Boss. _31st October. 8.40 a.m. Pick-up opposite Inverness Police station. Albert and Arthur Harbottle. Seated on bottom deck to Ottery St Catchpole then moved upstairs to seats eight and nine on top deck. Disembarked Godric's Hollow shortly after midday._ "

"That's them!" said Harry.

"So now what do we do?" asked Ginny.

"Well, obviously," said Draco, "we go to Inverness and use my Time-Turner to intercept the boys and bring them back."

"Boss?" Teddy's eyes were alight with excitement. "Another Time-Turner?"

"That's confidential, Lupin," said Harry.

"Right you are, Boss," said Teddy with a sigh, and began to sift through the other documents he had brought.

"Merlin's ruddy sidewhiskers, Malfoy." Harry turned back to Draco. "Haven't you understood a bloody thing?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry rapped his knuckle against the Knight Bus log. "It's already happened! The boys travelled on the bus from Inverness to Godric's Hollow. On _this_ Time-Path. That's fixed. If we go back and get the boys before they do that, we'll return on another Path!"

"Oh Morrigan's tits," muttered Draco. "This is making my brain hurt. So we go to Godric's Hollow then? Meet them off the bus."

"I don't think so. We have to find them _after_ they wrote the message on the blanket."

Hermione's forehead was creased in concentration."But why did they want to go to Godric's Hollow at all? Are they trying to prevent Voldemort killing your parents?"

Harry tried to focus his thoughts. "That's the obvious conclusion, but if that was their intention, they failed, didn't they? On this Time-Path at least."

"Because we found them first," said Draco.

"Maybe. But . . . I'm sure they learnt their lesson about trying to change things. I think they're trying to make sure nothing changes at all. And they're doing that because they know somebody _is_ trying to change things."

"Somebody." Hermione put her hand to her mouth in realisation. "Delphini, you mean?"

"Yes," said Harry, "I do mean Delphini."

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "Such a pretty girl too."

"Ronald!" Hermione took a swipe at his head with a roll of parchment.

"So what we know," said Draco. "Is that the boys caught the Knight Bus at Inverness on the morning of the thirty-first of October, 1981, and it dropped them off in Godric's Hollow sometime after midday."

"And at some point after that, they wrote a message on my blanket," said Harry. "But we don't know how and where they did that. Or what gave them the idea."

Ginny pushed some papers across across the desk. "The only thing I found that looks promising is this piece of work from our own dear Rita Skeeter. I'll read it to you. It's a report from Godric's Hollow on 1st November 1981. The day after—you know."

She picked the paper up and cleared her throat: " _I stand before the shattered remnants of the Potter's cottage. The reek of terror and death hangs heavy in the air; the gentle rain like soft tears of grief. Almost I see in the corner of my eye the echo of the Morsmordre hovering overhead. And yet—and yet! From such destruction rises the fragile hope of a new future, free from the omnipresent threat of the Dark Lord: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!—the whereabouts of the infant Potter boy a well-kept secret._

 _Pausing before the ruins of the cottage, I see the venerable Miss Bathilda Bagshot: denizen of the village and close neighbour of the Potters. Respectfully_ _,_ _I approach to ask her opinion on the catastrophic events of last night._

' _Dreadful!' She shakes her head sadly, her gentle eyes misty with unshed tears.'Quite dreadful!'_

 _I venture to ask what the significance is of the two wands she holds in her hand. For a moment she looks at them and seems disoriented as if wondering how they came to be within her grasp. 'They were found in the church this morning,' she tells me. 'On one of the pews. Most peculiar! They must have been taken from my house yesterday. But they are without price! Why would the thief go to the trouble of burgling my house only to then abandon the fruits of their labour? I am convinced it was some sort of Hallowe'en prank.'_

' _I had heard rumours,' I say, lowering my voice, 'That You-Know-Who's mark had been seen suspended in the air?'_

' _Oh.' Miss Bagshot waves her hand dismissively. 'You mean the strangely shaped cloud that appeared above the church yesterday evening. My dear childhood friend, Gussie, who had called for one of her all-too-infrequent visits, remarked upon it as she was taking her leave. Only a few short minutes before all this dreadful . . .' She tails off, overcome. 'It bore no real resemblance to—that! Apart from anything_ _,_ _it was the wrong colour.'_

 _When I ask if she can think who might have known where she kept the wands, she reminds me of an interview she had given me for the Prophet's Garden and Home section only a few months previously._

 _._

"Which, as it happens," Ginny folded the newspaper and opened another paper to the middle page. "I have here. _I am honoured to be chosen to interview Miss Bathilda Bagshot,._ _the gracious grand-dame of wizarding history and_ _legendary author of the seminal work:'The History of Magic'. When I arrive at_ _her_ _charmingly rustic_ _Godric's Hollow cottage—the Bagshot family home for more than five hundred years,_ _the marigolds that line the meandering path to her cheerful front door are turning their smiling faces to the laughing summer sun in grateful joy. Even before I can knock, she appears from around the side of the cottage and_ _greets me with immense charm. She_ _leads me through to the back of her bijou home and_ _shows me into the tastefully furnished garden room where her tortoiseshell cat provides a subtle counterpoint to the soft shades of beige and mushroom and offers me a cup of her special Pennyroyal tea._ ' _I have just this moment come from the churchyard.' She indicates a sturdy door set into the lichen-spotted stone wall which runs along one side of the exuberantly lush garden. Beyond the wall_ _,_ _I can see the gently watchful tower of St Jerome's church, glowing golden in the afternoon sun_ _._ "

"How excessively purple," said Draco." Why use one word when half a dozen will do? Is there much more of this rubbish before it gets to the point?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Ginny. "Sycophantic stuff about how charming Miss Bagshot is, and her tasteful interior decor. But when Rita finally gets to the point, it's quite enlightening." She scanned the page. "Here we are: _When we have exchanged pleasantries, I begin my interview by asking how closely she feels she identifies with the subjects of her research and how she establishes an emotional connection with them._

 _With a gentle smile, Miss Bagshot indicates a stylish display cabinet and opens the unlocked door to show me the contents. I am breathless with awe_ _,_ _for among many rare and wonderful curiosities are Norvel Twonk's Order of Merlin, An early draft of the Statute of Secrecy, several letters from Gellert Grindelwald to Albus Dumbledore, and even—she opens a carved box on the bottom shelf to show me—resting on a red silk cushion, Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore's wands._

 _I express concern about the security of such precious objects but with a silvery laugh, she reassures me. 'I am,' she tinkles merrily, '—dare I say it without appearing immodest?—a well loved and respected member of the village. In over a hundred years, I have never once suffered an intruder in my house, or even'—she waves an elegant hand towards an arch in the yew hedge at the end of her delightful garden—'in my shed._ '" Ginny put the paper down.

"Merlin!" said Ron. "Talk about an open invitation to burglars."

Harry noticed Teddy fidgeting. "You've got something, Lupin?"

"Yes, Boss. There's an Auror's report, Boss, from the second of November: _Sen. Auror Shacklebolt, K. Called at GH to see BB. Evidence someone had been sleeping in garden shed. Suspected SB. wanted in connection with attack on J &LP. and multiple counts of murder. Investigated and confirmed recent presence of male youths but not SB. Probably linked with theft of wands from house (recovered from church on 1 Nov_ _._ _) and bottle of doxycide from porch (remains of bottle found in aforementioned shed). Report classified as trivial. No further action to be taken."_

"You think it was Albus and Scorpius who stayed in her shed and burgled her house and stole the wands and the Budge's?" said Ron.

" I have to believe this," said Harry. "It makes sense."

"So we go to Bathilda Bagshot's shed and find them," said Draco. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Hold on. We need to make sure that's where they're going to be."

"We've waited long enough!"

"Malfoy, this is time travel we're dealing with. It doesn't matter if we spend the next year working it out, we'll still go back to the same point."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny's voice was plaintive. "Please."

"I know," said Harry, "we won't have to wait that long. But an hour or two won't hurt." At last, he felt as if he was doing something. "We need to give them the information they need before they get to Godric's Hollow. That means they have to find it on the Knight Bus."

Ron grinned. "You've got a plan, mate, I can tell."

"It depends if there is such a thing as a book which describes what happens when Pearl Dust and Tincture of Demiguise come into contact with each other." Harry looked at Hermione.

"There must be," she said. "It might take a while to find. We could ask Elvira."

"No need," said Ron looking thoughtful, " I might know just the thing. Entertain yourselves while I'm away."

.

.

"We need to get on the bus on the morning of the thirty-first of October," said Harry, when Ron had gone, "leave the message and then get off again before the boys board in Inverness." He rubbed his head. "I think . . . I remember Erasmus saying something about the Knight Bus being like the Flying Dutchman."

"The Flying Dutchman! Have you finally lost your mind, Potter?"

"Sod off, Malfoy. It's . . . outside time and place. It doesn't matter where it is, if you travel through time when you're on the Knight Bus, you'll still be on it even if it's in . . . I don't know, Surrey or Scotland."

"Does that mean," said Draco, "we can get on the bus here, and all we have to worry about is the when—not the where?"

"Exactly. Lupin, can you find out where the bus will be in say . . . half an hour?"

"Yes, Boss." Teddy saluted and hurried out.

"We need to find out when the top deck was empty," said Harry, "travel back to that point, leave the message on seat eight or nine, and then come back to now. Then we apparate to Godric's Hollow, and travel back to Hallowe'en 1981."

Hermione consulted the log. "The top deck was empty between ten to and ten past seven, which is when Arabella Figg got on. She sat in seat number two at the front. No one else rode on the top deck until the boys moved up there just after the Molly and the children got off at quarter past ten."

.

.

Ron arrived back clutching a slightly stained and dog-eared book to his chest and looking very pleased with himself. "Mum says she would like this back. But it's brilliant. _Enquire Within Upon Everything (Wizarding Version). A Practical Handbook and Essential Compendium of Household Hints. Includes a Guide to Basic Potions._ Not only does it have a recipe for love potion but the glossary of ingredients includes tincture of Demiguise."

"Nice one, mate," said Harry. "They need to see Rita's article too. Ginny, pass me that paper."

"Harry, no!" Ginny's exclamation was too late. Harry had already used his wand to cut out Rita's article.

"My boss will murder me," she complained.

We'll repair it later. Anyway, do a lot of people read forty year-old _Prophet_ articles from the garden and home section?

"Probably not," she admitted.

"Underline the bit about the shed," said Hermione. "And about the wands. And the Pearl Dust. And the tincture of Demiguise."

"I get the idea." Harry picked up his quill and underlined everything he thought might be relevant.

"Mum's going to go spare," said Ron.

We can clean it up," said Hermione. "If we get it back."

The mood grew more sober.

"I just hope they read it," said Ginny.

"We'll use the Prophet article as a bookmark." Harry inserted the cutting between the pages next to the recipe for love potion. "We need another bookmark for the tincture of Demiguise. Can we let them know it's from us in some way? Is there something they would recognise?"

Draco reached into a breast pocket under his robes and pulled out a piece of paper which he held it to his lips for a moment. "Use this," he said giving it to Harry. "Scorpius will know it immediately, but it won't mean a thing to anyone else."

Harry looked at it. "The announcement of your engagement to Astoria. Are you sure about this, Malf—Draco? We might not get it back."

"My son is more important. He knows I keep it with me all the time. He knows what it means to me."

" If you're sure then."

"I am."

Harry slipped it inside the book.

.

.

The door banged open, and Teddy rushed in.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Harry. "The hinges won't take much more."

"Sorry, Boss," said Teddy, "but it just so happens the Knight bus is in for a service. You'll have to be quick though, it will be out again soon. It's in the DthreeM workshop."

"DthreeM?" said Ginny.

"Department of Machinery and Magical Modifications," said Harry. It's part of the Department of Wizarding Transport. "Let's go."

.

* * *

.

The Department of Machinery and Magical Modifications was, of course, accessible from outside the Ministry via a private underground car park next to King's Cross station: but from inside the Ministry the entrance was at the end of—what seemed to Harry—an interminably long corridor some way past the owlery on level one. Despite having just run down to Harry's office, Teddy set a brisk pace ahead of them until the passage ended at a pair of wide gates with a single narrow, barred gate beside them.

"Minister." The gate attendant bowed to Hermione rather more deeply than Harry thought necessary and opened a huge padlock on the smaller gate with an equally huge key. They entered a vast, draughty, vaulting tunnel, long enough to accommodate the Hogwarts express, and with rail tracks set along the middle of the floor. The curved walls were bare, soot-blackened brick, and the space was illuminated by old-fashioned Muggle style lights hanging on long chains from the middle of the arched roof. Smaller bays branched away at intervals from the main area. Harry saw a white van in one, a long shiny black car with tinted windows in another. A third appeared to be full of lawnmowers. Wizards, witches and elves in boiler suits or smocks were busy with tools and trolleys and oil cans. A few people in DoWT robes wandered importantly about, making notes on large clipboards.

"This way, Boss." Teddy led them to the bay where the tall, purple bus was parked. The cover of the engine was propped open and a pair of wizards were leaning into it, tinkering at it with wands which changed from spanners to screwdrivers to pliers. Teddy veered away to speak to a clipboard-carrying witch in a peaked cap.

"Wait here, all of you," said Harry. "Except Malfoy."

"Please be careful, darling," said Ginny.

Harry kissed her forehead. "Aren't I always?"

.

"Auror business."

The two mechanic wizards looked up from the engine. Harry flashed his Auror's badge. "We need the top deck."

One of the wizards wiped his hands on an oily rag and wordlessly nodded them into the bus. Harry led Draco up the narrow stairs.

"Fascinating," said Draco looking around. "It has a certain rustic charm. I believe these are seats one and two at the front." He looked down through the windscreen. "Positively vertiginous."

"Eight and nine are this way," said Harry heading towards the rear. "I know it's a novelty, Malfoy, but don't dawdle."

.

Seats eight and nine were two wicker chairs right at the back. Harry twisted the dials on the Time-Turner and held it out in front of him. "Get hold of this, Malfoy." He depressed the knob.

.

Knowing what to expect made the sensation easier to bear, though suddenly finding himself rocking from side to side on the top deck of the moving bus made Harry stagger until he caught his balance.

Draco had both hands on the back of a floral armchair and was giving dry, painful heaves. "I think I've been turned inside out." He felt his head and patted himself all over. "Is everything in the right place?"

"I'm not sure," said Harry. "Were your ears always in that position?"

.

Outside the bus, the day was grey and damp. They were speeding along a country lane between high, untidy hedges behind which were ploughed fields dotted with bare trees. Seats eight and nine were now a wooden garden bench with cast iron ends.

"We'll have to wedge the book between the slats," said Harry.

"Take a cushion off that one." Draco pointed to the armchair. "And put the book underneath. It won't be so obvious. Let's hope they find it."

"I think they did," said Harry.

"Ah. I suppose so. I can't think about it too much. Gives me a headache."

The ploughed fields outside gave way to streets and houses. The bus jerked to a stop and Harry and Draco collided with each other. Harry peered out of the window. "That's Mrs Figg," he said urgently. We'll have to go." He fumbled with the Time-Turner as he heard footsteps on the stairs. "Come on, Malfoy!"

They climbed down the stairs and found Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Teddy waiting for them by the door. Ginny was pale, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. When she saw Harry and Draco, silent tears started to roll down her cheeks. Harry put his arms around her and held tightly. "Did it work?" she asked.

"You'll have to ask Albus when he's back."

"Oh, Harry."

"He will come back, Gin. He will. And soon."

"Boss!" Teddy was holding something out.

Harry took it. "What is it, Lupin?".

It was a book. Slightly stained and dog-eared. _Enquire Within Upon Everything (Wizarding Version)._

"It was in Lost Property, Boss. Been there for thirty-nine years."

Harry turned the book over and shook the pages. A piece of paper fell out and he picked it up. "It's Rita's article, but"—he looked at Draco—"the notice of your engagement isn't here." He handed the book to Ron. You can give this back to Molly." He saluted Teddy who stood to attention. "That will be all, Lupin. You've done well."

"Aw, but, Boss—"

"Thank you, Lupin. Now"—he turned back to the others—"to Godric's Hollow."

"You're not going without me," said Ginny.

"You can come to Godric's Hollow with us," said Harry. "No reason why not."

"We'll come too," said Hermione. "Won't we, Ron? Wait for you to get back."

"Certainly will," said Ron. "Moral support, etcetera." He tucked the book into his robes.

"In that case," said Harry, "I'll see you all at the church in a few minutes. By the lych gate."

.


	21. Act 3, Scene 6: A Tower on Top of it All

_(A/N: In the unlikely event that this is a re-read, you might notice a small edit about halfway through this chapter. Thanks to iNiGmA who asked me why Albus and Scorpius could see the Potters' cottage when the others couldn't. It's Cursed Child canon that they could, of course, but it doesn't make sense.)_

.

* * *

 **ACT III**

 **SCENE VI**

.

 **A TOWER ON TOP OF IT ALL**

.

Godric's Hollow hummed in the warm afternoon sun. The leaves of a few trees were already hinting at the autumn colour to come. A market clustered around the statue of Harry's parents on the village green beyond the cobbled square and the smell of frying onions drifted from a nearby van. Ron perked up.

"No, Ron," said Ginny. "You can't be thinking of your stomach now!"

Ron looked disappointed. "Just fancied a little something."

"Why break the habit of a lifetime?" said Draco.

"Boys, boys," said Hermione. "This is not the time."

.

.

The church was a solid, comforting one with a square tower. Paths paved with worn York stone ran in straight lines around the building and between rows of neatly kept graves. The back of the churchyard was bounded by a long, high stone wall, with a few house roofs and chimneys visible behind it. Overhead, the clock struck three.

"Wait a moment," said Harry. "I have to just—"

"What?" said Draco. "Hurry up, Potter."

.

.

Harry stood in front of his parents' grave. _I'll come back for a longer visit soon_ he promised silently. _Wish me luck_. He knelt down and pointed his wand at the ground. " _Floresco."_ A patch of grass swelled into a mound and a clump of broad, wrinkled leaves started to push though. Longer stems unfolded from between the leaves, and buds swelled at the tips. Soon a clump of delicate, pale yellow flowers trembled in the gentle breeze. Primroses in September.

He picked twelve of the spindly stalks and made a little posy which he laid on the grave.

.

The church clock struck the quarter. "All right," Harry said at last. "Ready, Malfoy? Let's do this." He took the Time-Turner from inside his robes and adjusted the dials then held it out in front of him. Draco reached out and Harry pressed the knob firmly until it clicked.

.

* * *

.

Harry shivered and shook his head to clear it. The light was fading, and the cold autumn wind was a shock to the system. His parents' grave had gone. The rough grass where he stood was undisturbed, and beyond the churchyard, the village green was empty. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, and the memorial to James and Lily was now an ordinary Muggle cenotaph. On the road outside the churchyard, yellow street lights were starting to come on.

Someone was holding his hand.

.

.

He blinked and focused, Draco was standing beside him panting slightly, but thankfully it was not his hand in Harry's. With a sinking feeling he identified the owner. "Ginny! What in Hades? And bloody hell! Bloody, bloody hell, Ron! And Hermione. What the f—what are you all doing here?"

"I wasn't letting you come without me," said Ginny, who was pale and shaky, but wearing the stubborn expression Harry had long ago learned not to argue with.

Ron was looking rather green but he grinned. "Sorry, mate. I had my arm round her. She didn't give me any warning."

Hermione did not share Ron's amusement. She swallowed several times and took a deep breath. "Thank you very much, Ronald, for bringing me along with you. Let's hope we can get back, because if we can't, not only do we leave wizarding Britain without a Minister for Magic and Head Auror, we also leave Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes severely short-staffed. Though"—she added bitterly—"I daresay no one will notice much difference there."

"Now that's below the belt, Hermione," Ron protested.

"And we leave Rose, Hugo, James and Lily without parents," said Hermione. "Ginny, what were you thinking?"

Ginny had gone pale. "Oh, Merlin!" Tears of shock sprang into her eyes. "I wasn't, was I?"

"Well," said Draco, "as we are all here, _en masse_ as it were, I suggest we concentrate our efforts on finding the boys and getting home."

Harry raked his hands through his hair. "Yes," he muttered. "Here we all are. The Head Auror, the Minister for Magic, the sports editor of the Daily Prophet, the manager of a bloody joke shop and a member of the Idle Rich. Merlin, give me strength." He looked up at the church tower. "If that clock's right, it's coming up to five. We're bang-on target. The Time-Turner must be working properly at least."

"Of course it's working properly, Potter," said Draco. "Do you think the Malfoys would have just any cheap old bargain-basement Time-Turner?"

Harry thought Draco might have been making some sort of joke. "Let's hope the boys got the hint about Bathilda Bagshot's shed," he said.

Ginny's forehead creased. "How will they have known which is her house?"

"The same way we will," said Harry. "Bathilda's garden had a gate opening directly into the churchyard. I suggest we start at one end of the wall and look for a gate. Please don't draw attention to yourselves. Draco, cover your head."

"What for?"

"Because you look too much like your father, that's why."

"Ah." Draco pulled the hood of his robes over his head. "Better?"

"Better."

They followed the high stone wall that edged two sides of the churchyard. There were only two gates, and one of them was nailed shut. They gathered around the other.

"It has to be this one." Hermione twisted the heavy ring latch and pushed. "It's locked."

"I'm sure Scorpius would have had the sense to lock it behind him," said Draco.

"Yes, well I'm sure Albus would too," said Harry.

" _Alohomora,_ " said Ginny, flicking her wand, and tried the latch again. With an unhappy creak, the door opened just enough for them to squeeze through one at a time.

"Good job your sister stopped you having that ghastly Muggle thing with fried onions, don't you think, Weasley?" said Draco, sniggering. "We'd have had to leave you in the graveyard."

"You wouldn't credit," said Harry, "how many wizards have doors that can be unlocked with one of the first spells the average eleven-year-old learns."

"Point taken," said Hermione with a sniff. "Now, according to Rita's article, if Bathilda's house is over there"—she pointed to a half-timbered cottage draped in a red net of bare Virginia creeper stems with bright leaves heaped at the base of the wall—"the shed should be down here." She indicated a leaf-strewn gravel path that wound between shrubberies and flower beds and through an arch in a dark yew hedge. "I can't see anyone around. Quickly now."

They hurried along the path with Hermione in the lead, their feet crunching on the gravel with what Harry thought was a deafening noise. Just beyond the archway in the thick hedge, the path stopped at the door of a very ordinary-looking, slightly dilapidated, windowless garden shed.

"It's here." Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. Let's hope the boys are inside."

"It doesn't look like a very big shed," said Ron. "We won't all fit in there."

"Honestly, Ronald," said Hermione. "Are you a Muggle? Bathilda is a witch. It's bound to be bigger inside."

She tapped on the wooden wall. "Boys," she called softly. "Are you in there? Albus? Scorpius?"

"They won't hear that," said Draco. He drew a breath to shout.

" _Muffliato!"_ hissed Hermione in the nick of time.

Draco's bellow emerged in a faint squeak as if someone had pressed a pillow against his face.

Ron tried the door. The latch lifted but the door didn't budge. "It's not locked, but it won't open. I think there's something wedged against the inside."

"Stand back," Draco said lifting his wand. " _Contundo!"_ There was a _bang_. The door flew out and wobbled precariously on one bent hinge.

"Nice work, Malfoy," said Harry. "Subtle. Unobtrusive. I'm sure no one will notice that."

"Granger's good at mending things." Draco pushed the broken door aside and squeezed past the antiquated lawnmower that had been wedged against it. Harry, Ron and Ginny followed him.

"You were right, Hermione," said Ron. "It is bigger inside. Still a bit of a squash though."

Draco shone a light from the end of his wand and swept it around revealing rough wooden walls, cobwebby garden tools, a broken chest of drawers piled with plant pots and damp newspapers, and a pile of old sacks in a corner. "There's no one here, damn it all! What do we do now?"

There was a disturbance and a loud sneeze. "Er, yes there is, Father." Sheepishly, Scorpius emerged from under the sacks, followed by a dusty Albus.

"Mum?"

"Oh, Albus! Oh, my baby boy!" Ginny wrapped him in a tight embrace and started to cry.

"How did you know?" said Albus to Harry over Ginny's shoulder. "How did you know where we were?"

"We got your message of course!"

"On the blanket, you mean?"

"Of course I do. Good work!"

Albus pulled away from Ginny and delved into the pile of sacks again, pulling something out. It was the blanket. "But I've only just finished writing it!"

"That's time travel for you," said Harry with a grin. "How did you manage to get the blanket away from baby Harry without being seen?"

Albus looked sheepish. "We didn't."

"What do you mean?" Harry poked a finger at the blanket. "You must have done."

Scorpius shook his head. "We saw your parents pushing you in a pram and we followed, but then we lost sight of you and we couldn't find you again. We couldn't find the house either, even though we knew where it was. It must have been because of the _Fidelius_ charm."

"And then," said Albus, "we thought we could get a blanket from somewhere else and write the message and find a way to get it to you later. We found it hanging on Bathilda's washing line."

" _On Bathilda's washing line_?" With something confusingly between grief and hilarity, Harry realised that the blanket he had always pictured his mother wrapping tenderly around her baby, had probably actually belonged to one of Bathilda Bagshot's dogs.

"It was clean," Albus assured him.

Scorpius took a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his robes and gave it to Draco. "I've been careful with it. It was a message wasn't it, Father? The book on the Knight Bus?"

"It was indeed," said Draco.

"Budge's Bundimun Bane," said Albus, proudly nudging a big brown bottle on the floor with his toe. "We found it in Miss Bagshot's porch."

"Shall we mend this door, wife-of-mine," said Ron, "while the tender reconciliations are underway?"

"Let's hope no one heard the noise." Hermione levitated the door into position. "Hold it in place, Ronald, while I mend it."

.

"I knew you'd find a way to get back to us, Dad," said Albus.

Harry's heart swelled with pleasure.

"Did you get a Time-Turner from somewhere? Delphi destroyed ours."

"It was not yours," said Harry. "It was Ministry property. But there'll be plenty of time to talk about it when we're home. I daresay Scorpius's father will have something to say as well."

Draco grimaced in a way Harry thought might have been intended as a smile.

Hermione made a final repair to the shed door. "That's done. Now, boys, I think we should go home."

"But we can't go yet!" Scorpius exclaimed. "We've got to make sure Delphi doesn't get to baby Harry!"

Hermione looked at Harry. "What do you think? Personally, I think we should get back without any further ado."

"But Scorpius is right," said Albus urgently. "She's going to try and change things."

"We don't want to find ourselves on another Time-Path," said Harry, "and then have to come back and do it all again. Albus and Scorpius have already created two new Time-Paths—that we know of. What's she up to, boys?"

"We think she's intending to kill you," said Albus. "Baby Harry, that is—before Voldemort curses you and unintentionally destroys himself."

"Crikey!" said Ron. "So where is she now?"

"We don't know. She destroyed our wands and left us in Scotland. We knew she was coming here so we came on the Knight Bus. And we met a Muggle pleeceman."

"Very resourceful," said Draco. "You've had quite an adventure."

"I suppose we'd better find this Delphi character," said Ron, "and put a stop to her tricks."

"Tricks!" said Harry. "Do you"—he looked around at Hermione, Ron, Draco and Ginny—"still think she's Voldemort's daughter?"

"You already know my opinion, Potter," said Draco.

"What other explanation is there?" said Hermione. "She as good as told us so with what she wrote on the walls of her room at St Oswald's."

"But did she?" said Harry. "It wasn't really that specific, was it? Open to interpretation, you might say."

Hermione pursed her lips. "What other interpretation do you suggest?"

"Well, Megan said—"

"Megan! What has that charlatan got to do with this?"

"She's not a charlatan!" Harry protested. "I asked her to look at Delphini's room. I wanted her impressions. And she said—"

"Oh, Megan this, Megan that!" Hermione's patience broke. "Divination is nonsense! Remember Trelawny."

"Trelawny was a self-deluded fraud, that's true but—"

"And your precious Megan is a fraud too! Delphini is Voldemort's child; she has to be. And the boys are right. Somehow, we have to stop her."

Harry gave up trying to argue. "So how do we do that?"

"She's a really powerful witch, Dad," said Albus. "And she can fly without a broom."

"She might be powerful," said Harry, "but there are five of us"—he glanced at the boys—"sorry, seven. Between us, I'm sure we can get the better of her."

"She might already be here in the village," said Hermione. "She'll want to go to James and Lily's house but she shouldn't be able to see it. I expect she'll try to reach Voldemort before he gets to the cottage. We need a vantage point to watch for her."

"I know Godric's Hollow isn't very big," said Ginny, "but how do we watch all of it?"

"I sometimes wonder if the lot of you are sharing a single brain cell," said Ron. "Obviously, the church tower."

"Of course," said Hermione. "And we should be able to get there through the churchyard without being seen."

Ron poked his head out of the newly repaired door and glanced around. "It's all clear. Let's go!"

In single file, they scurried through the churchyard and round to the main door of the church. It was unlocked, but inside the church was dark and chilly.

" _Lumos,"_ said Hermione and electric lights hanging from long cords overhead glowed into life. The nave smelt faintly of damp, furniture polish, and the flowers arranged in a large brass vase in front of the lectern. The arched ceiling was supported by a row of stone pillars that ran down the central aisle between the pews. A stained glass rose window at the back of the chancel showed a bald, bearded man working at a desk. There was some Latin text written below the image.

Harry started walking over to see it better but Hermione said, "We're wasting time. Where's the entrance to the tower? Everyone look!"

"This must be it," said Draco a few seconds later, standing by a stout wooden door set back in an alcove opposite the chancel. He tried twisting the big iron ring latch and pulling. "But it's locked."

"For crying out loud, Malfoy," said Harry. "You're a wizard aren't you? Just try not to destroy it completely. A simple _Alohomora_ should work."

.

It did. The door swung silently out revealing a steep spiral of worn stone steps with a thick stair-rope fastened to the walls.

Hermione stepped through the door. "Stay together, everybody. I don't want us to get separated."

"You want me to go up there?" said Ron. "But my knees are telling me not to do this thing."

"Ronald," said Hermione warningly.

Albus and Scorpius ran to the parapet and craned over, nudging each other and pointing. Ron bent down with his hands on his knees breathing heavily. "I'm not built for this sort of thing."

"I think we can all agree on that," said Draco, leaning languidly against the wall.

Godric's Hollow was spread out below them. Houses and cottages, windows warm and yellow in the dusk, clustered along the four roads that intersected at the village green. "That's Bathilda's house. The Potters' must be about there." Hermione pointed.

"Can't you see it?" asked Harry.

"No. Can you?"

"Yes. Can none of you see it? Under that huge tree. The one with washing still out on the line. No?" He looked around at the others.

Everyone shrugged or shook their head.

"It must be because of the _Fidelius_ charm," Harry said. "Everything seems peaceful. The lights are on. Smoke coming from the chimney." He experienced a vicious pang of longing and sorrow.

Ron and I will take first watch," said Hermione. "The rest of you might as well go down into the church. The boys look shattered. Let them rest."

.

* * *

.

Albus was wrapped in his cloak asleep on a pew. Ginny was stroking his hair. The clock overhead chimed seven.

"He'll be all right won't he?" Harry whispered. "I mean"—he glanced over to where Scorpius lay sleeping with his head on Draco's lap on another pew—"between the two of them they pretty much destroyed the world on at least two other Time-Paths."

"Don't ever say that to him, Harry," Ginny warned. "One day he'll realise, but for now it's best if he just thinks he's set things right. Why do you think Delphini chose today?"

"What do you mean?"

"She could have chosen any time in the last fifteen months to kill baby Harry. Why choose today?"

Harry stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You're right. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

Ginny's hand paused on Albus's head. "Today's the day, specifically, that Voldemort's rise to greatness was halted. Even though he tried again later, it was the events of today that planted the seed of his destruction. I don't think Delphini wants to kill Harry. She wants to stop Voldemort from attacking him at all. Because if he hadn't tried to kill you, who knows how powerful he would have grown. Possibly invincible!"

"It makes sense. But there's a huge flaw in that argument."

"Which is?"

"Assuming she is Voldemort's daughter, then if she prevents his defeat tonight, she would likely also prevent her own birth."

"Oh. I suppose so. But perhaps she doesn't realise that."

"We need to discuss this with the others. We'd better wake the boys." Harry gave Albus a gentle shake and called, "Malfoy!"

"What now, Potter?"

"We've been thinking. Maybe Delphini isn't planning what we thought. We need to talk to Hermione."

The boys yawned and rubbed their eyes as they trudged sluggishly up the stone steps behind their parents.

.

.

"Ginny thinks we're barking up the wrong tree," said Harry. "She thinks Delphini isn't here to harm baby Harry at all."

"I believe she wants to prevent Voldemort's attack altogether," Ginny said.

Ron scratched his head. "So we aren't here to save Harry, we're here to _not_ save him. 'S'at right?"

"Of course!" said Hermione. "I see it now."

"Well, yeah," said Harry, "If you believe Delphini really is Voldemort's daughter."

Hermione's voice was sharp. "We aren't going there again, Harry!"

"Do we know when to expect Voldemort? What time did he arrive in Godric's Hollow?" asked Ginny.

Everyone turned to Hermione who looked faintly alarmed. She shrugged and lifted her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't know. I don't think anyone does."

"So Delphini won't know either," said Harry.

"I suppose not."

"We need to catch her off guard and overpower her. Surely, between us, we can manage that."

"Sounds perfectly simple when you put it like that, Potter," said Draco.

"Feel free to offer a better suggestion, Malfoy."

"She wants to see Voldemort," said Ron. "So we should give her what she wants."

"No problem there, then," sneered Draco. "Shall we send an invitation?"

"Don't be a cretin, Malfoy," said Ron. "If she knew where Voldemort was, she'd go to him. And if he was here in the church . . ."

"Helpful, Ron," said Ginny.

"Not the real Voldemort, obviously," said Ron—though it wasn't obvious to Harry, nor as far as he could tell, to anyone else—"I mean one of us pretending to be Voldemort."

"That's . . . ridiculous," said Hermione doubtfully.

"It's a horrible idea," said Ginny.

"One of us could transform into Voldemort," insisted Ron. "We could use Polyjuice potion."

Ginny gave Ron a withering look. "Are you offering to get a lock of his hair? Or a toenail clipping?"

"In any case," said Hermione, "Polyjuice potion takes a month to brew, don't you remember?"

"Not Polyjuice potion then," said Ron. "Transfiguration would do it. I'll volunteer."

"You?" said Hermione. "I wouldn't trust you not to crack an inappropriate joke."

"You do it then, cleverclogs." Ron pulled a face at her. "You're pretty good at doing scary and intimidating. I'm terrified of you."

"I could—" Scorpius volunteered.

"No!" everyone cried in unison. Scorpius looked relieved.

Harry sighed. "You're all ignoring the fact that the only one of us with any chance of doing a successful impersonation of Voldemort happens to be me."

"How did you reach that conclusion?" asked Draco.

"The fact that I practically lived with him in my head for years?"

"Well," said Ginny uneasily. "If it comes to that I really did have him in my head for several months."

"Plus," said Harry, "I can understand and speak Parsel, which you all seem to have forgotten. If anything can convince Delphini that she's speaking to Voldemort, it's that."

No one argued.

"Very well," said Draco. "Suppose you successfully take on the appearance of the Dark Lord, we need to attract her attention and get her in here. But how?"

"I sometimes think you're all a bit thick," said Ron. "Where are we now?"

"Er, the church," said Ginny. "Oh! You mean the tower. That can be seen from the whole village."

"Congratulations," said Ron. "Knew you'd get there in the end. Just need to make a bit of noise, a few bangs and flashes to draw her attention. And that's my area of expertise, isn't it?"

.


	22. Act 3, Scene 7: The Falling of the Gloom

**ACT III**

 **SCENE VII**

.

 **IN THE FALLING OF THE GLOOM**

.

They gathered in front of the lectern. The main image on the stained glass window behind the chancel showed a bald, bearded man wearing medieval monk's robes, working at a desk. Some Latin text was written below the image. Ginny read it out. " _Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent._ "

"On all sides round horror spread wide; the very silence breathed a terror on my soul," said Scorpius. Everyone looked at him and he blushed.

"I knew that extra Latin tuition would pay off one day," said Draco.

"Terrific," said Harry. "That's very encouraging."

.

"So," said Ron, "what did Voldemort look like in 1981?" He looked at Hermione expectantly.

"Erm . . . I suppose he looked much as he did when he came back."

"Do you think so?" Ginny sounded doubtful. "I never heard that he looked quite so . . . monstrous."

"Well, if we don't know," Hermione said tartly, "I don't suppose Delphini will either."

"The wife's right," said Ron. "No use arguing. She's always right. Just look Voldemort-ish and very evil. No nose, slitty nostrils, little red eyes. Big black cloak. Hissing sort of voice."

"Voldemort could fly without a broom," said Harry. "How do I get round that?"

"You can levitate, can't you?"

"It's never been one of my strengths," admitted Harry. "I can manage about thirty seconds."

"You'd better make it an impressive thirty seconds then, Potter, hadn't you?" said Draco.

"We can all help you with that," said Hermione. "When she comes into the church, you should be here." She gestured at the chancel. "There are dozens of candles. We'll get them all together and have them burning behind you, so you'll be partly in silhouette. The rest of us will hide. Me and Ron in the vestry, Draco and Scorpius in the north transept, and Ginny and Albus at the base of the tower. Can you boys perform _Ascendare?"_

"Um, yes," said Albus. "We've only done it on small things, though."

"The principle is the same regardless of size," said Hermione. "In order to overpower her quickly and cleanly, I want everybody to act together on my command. Draco and Ginny, _Incarcerous_ ; the boys, _Ascendare_ ; Ronald and I, _Petrificus Totalus_. Are we all clear?"

Everybody grunted, nodded, mumbled or shuffled in agreement.

"There's an awful lot that could go wrong," said Ginny.

"Too late for second thoughts," said Draco, "unless you've got a better plan?"

Ginny rubbed her arms as if she were cold. "I haven't. How do we lure her into the church? Something Delphini will notice but that won't bring the whole village to see what's going on."

There was a baffled silence, then Ron said, " _Morsmordre_. Above the tower."

"Ronald, no!" protested Hermione.

"Oh." Harry felt sick. "I don't think we should. And that would draw too _much_ attention."

"But people will keep away from it, won't they?" said Ron. "Anyway, it doesn't have to be exactly the same. I can make something that looks a bit similar. Delphini won't know what a real one looks like. Let's see your Voldemort first, Harry. Got to get it right when she comes."

"If," said Harry pessimistically.

"When," said Ron. "Go on."

Harry pointed his wand towards his own chest, closed his eyes and focused. He felt himself growing taller and concentrated on every memory he had of Voldemort; on the darkness and ugliness. And felt himself growing stronger: more powerful: more cruel.

"I am Voldemort," he said.

"As if you mean it, mate," said Ron.

"I am Voldemort!" said Harry again, louder. " _I am Voldemort!"_ This time the words emerged as a loud hiss. A sensation of raw power swept through him. " _I am the Master of Death!"_

"Blimey," said Ron. "You don't have to mean it quite that much." Hermione looked shocked. Scorpius was wide-eyed and Draco grim.

Harry looked at Ginny. She was white and terrified, hanging on to an equally pale Albus. Shame brought him back to reality and he released the shape he had been holding. "Bloody hell. Sorry, Gin, I didn't mean to scare you. It feels so strange."

"It was pretty good though, mate," said Ron. "Bloody convincing."

"I can't disagree, Potter," said Draco who was rather grey. "I wonder if you are more like the Dark Lord than you think."

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry.

"Oh grow up, both of you," said Hermione. "It was good, Harry. Be ready to assume that form again. Ginny, light the candles. Everyone prepare to get into position."

.

.

Ron stood motionless for a second, then took a deep breath, lifted his wand and held it across his chest. He looked up into the arched roof space, whispered something, and made a complex hand movement.

From the end of his wand emerged a tiny wisp of lilac smoke. As if being drawn into a thread it began to twist rapidly and lengthen. For a moment the thread hung vertically before him, then it began to undulate. The undulations grew stronger until it was writhing; knotting and unknotting in the air. As it wriggled, it grew from something the size of a pencil, to a wand, to a broomstick, and kept on getting bigger until they could see it was a serpent coiling and uncoiling; snapping at its own tail. Ron took his wand though a wide underarm sweep and batted the growing snake towards the open door of the bell tower. As if sucked into a vacuum, it whirled through the entrance and began to spin up the stairs, all the time increasing in size. A few seconds later there was a bone-crunching _boom_ overhead followed by two more which rattled the brassware and made the candle flames leap up in shock.

.

"What are you all looking at me like that for?" Ron spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "You want to get her attention don't you?"

"Harry," said Hermione.

Harry took a deep breath, gripped his wand tightly and pulled himself into Voldemort's form again. "I am Voldemort," he whispered; then hissed louder, " _I am Voldemort. Obey me!_ "

"Everyone else into place." Hermione snapped her fingers. "Look sharp!" In seconds they had all melted into the shadows.

.

.

There was a _crack_ , and Delphini appeared at the far end of the nave, close to the tower door. Ginny and Albus were pressed tight against the wall behind her; but her attention was all on Harry.

"Show yourself." Harry was chilled by the sound of his own voice. He switched to Parsel and repeated the instruction. " _Show yourself, whoever you are_." He started to levitate until he hovered several feet above the floor. " _What brings you into my presence?_ "

"Lord Voldemort!" She approached and knelt in front of him, looking up at him. Her white gown flowed like liquid on to the flagstones and her eyes were wide and shining gold, reflecting the candlelight. "I have been longing to meet you."

The expression on Delphini's face was not, Harry thought, that of a young woman meeting her long-lost father for the first time. It was one of malice and, yes, mischief. Whoever Delphini was, she was not Voldemort's daughter.

" _Identify yourself_!"

"Do you not recognise your own child?"

" _I have no child!_ "

"Not yet. That is still to come."

" _What nonsense is this? Explain yourself!_ "

"I am the child of your future." Delphini got gracefully to her feet and spread her arms in a joyous, expansive gesture. "I am come to help you achieve the power and greatness you deserve. With my help, you can be King. Emperor. Lord of the world! Together we shall rule over all. Men will be our playthings!"

" _You have come to help me? Such impudence!"_

"Father." Delphini's eyes were limpid; almost hypnotic. Harry could see Voldemort reflected in them. "You must not attempt to destroy the Potter child today. To do so will mean disaster."

" _You presume to tell me what to do?"_ The effort of maintaining Voldemort's form was hard enough. Speaking Parsel and levitating at the same time proved too much. Harry could hear his voice losing power and he wobbled. In the nick of time, he felt someone else's spell lifting him back up.

.

Delphini looked suddenly wary. Her attention was drawn by the faintest movement of air. She smiled." _When is a door not a door?"_ she intoned and pointed her wand towards the vestry. " _Colloportus!"_ The door slammed shut. " _Cuneo!"_ a brass candlestick shot up from a table and wedged itself through the handle and under the latch. "It seems you brought company, _Father._ "

Harry dropped heavily to the ground with a grunt, winded and bruised but still holding his wand. It could take Hermione several minutes to free the latch from inside the vestry. He had to act. " _Expelliarmus!"_ he gasped.

Delphini's wand flew out of her hand and her eyes widened.

Harry really didn't like what she did next. She laughed. And raised her hand, lifting one of the front pews several feet off the ground.

He waved his wand again. " _Immobulus!_ "

Delphini's movement arrested, but only for half a second. Enough for the pew to crash back to the stone floor where Harry's head would have been if he hadn't rolled out of the way. "Oh my," she said softly. "What have we here?"

Before Harry had time to consider why his spell had been so ineffective, his arm grew weak, and he dropped his own wand. The remnants of the transfiguration spell fell away. He tried to get up but could hardly lift his head from the floor. Paralysis was creeping up his limbs from his fingers and toes. Already he couldn't feel anything below his knees and elbows.

"Well, well." Delphini nudged him with a sandal-clad foot. "Sweet little Albus's daddy. Your boy's up in Scotland somewhere. Didn't you know?" She sighed. "Children are so much easier to manage than their parents."

.

As Harry struggled at her feet, she held her hands out towards him as if pleading. Then she clenched her fists. A glow developed inside her fingers. All the light bulbs overhead exploded simultaneously, sprinkling the nave with slivers of glass. Blue lightning crackled under the vaulted roof.

From his vantage point on the floor, Harry saw Albus worming himself underneath the pews towards the vestry door. He had to keep Delphini's attention away from what was happening behind her. Though he could not move his head, and his lips were stiff, he could still speak. "Why have you come here, Delphini?"

"I've come to play." She giggled. " Knock, knock."

"What?"

"Uh oh." She poked her foot at him again. "You know how to play this. Let's try again. Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" said Harry feebly.

"Call me."

Harry groaned. "Call me who?"

"Call me whatever you like, just don't call me late for dinner!" Delphini shrieked with laughter. "This is such fun isn't it! Isn't it? Let's play again."

"No, let's not," said Harry. "What is it you want?"

Albus had reached the door and was trying to free the wedged candlestick.

"I only wanted to see my dear father." Delphini giggled. "Poor daddy."

"Who are you?" said Harry. "You are no child of Voldemort's."

"I? I am the Augurey! I am the future written in the skies." She lifted her glowing hands towards the heavens."My song reminds us that all men must face Death."

The candlestick dislodged and crashed to the floor. Delphini spun round. "Oh my, it's little Albus. It seems you have more initiative than I expected. I suppose your friend is here too? Scorpius!" she called. "Come and join in!"

" _Jacio!"_ Hermione burst into the nave sending the candlestick hurtling back towards the chancel.

Delphini dodged it without difficulty and it thudded into a brass memorial plaque fastened to the wall behind her. Gleefully she made a throwing movement, flicking her wrists and sending fizzing balls of fire spinning rapidly towards the vestry, one after another.

Hermione's wand flicked back and forth in a blur and she skipped about dodging and deflecting them but they came faster than she could extinguish them. The bottom of the vestry door started to burn.

"So," said Delphini, without any sign of exertion as sparks continued to stream from her fingertips, "how many more of you are here, I wonder?"

" _Bombarda!"_ cried Albus. His missile exploded harmlessly mid-air and missed Delphini by a country mile but it caused the heavy brass eagle on the lectern to topple which distracted her for a split second.

" _Everte Statum!"_ shouted Hermione throwing Delphini off balance. "Let's find out," she added, as the snarling Delphini clenched her fists again. "Everybody, _now_!"

As if perfectly choreographed, everyone else stepped out of the shadows, wands pointed at Delphini.

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_

" _Incarcerous!"_

" _Ascendare!"_

" _Brachiabindo!"_ Hermione added for good measure.

Attacked from three directions at the same time, Delphini was sent spinning round in the air trussed up like a Sunday roast before she could retaliate. The paralysis immobilising Harry eased and he lay still for a moment in blessed relief.

.

"Seven, including the boys," said Hermione. "I think that's just enough, don't you?"

Harry groaned as agonising pins and needles rushed into his extremities. "Don't let her move her hands. And put something in her mouth." He scrambled to his feet, picking up his wand and flexing his aching arms.

"I'd be delighted." With every appearance of enjoyment, Ginny wedged a small prayer book between Delphini's teeth.

.

.

The seven of them observed the bound and furious Delphini. She had sprouted wings between her shoulder blades and on her ankles, and was flapping helplessly at eye level making enraged grunts, and spinning in uncontrolled circles.

"Wings," said Harry. "Not a lot of wizards have wings. Still think she's Voldemort's daughter?"

"I'm having second thoughts," admitted Hermione. "What are we going to do with her now?"

Harry had not had the foresight to make a plan. "We'll have to take her back with us, I suppose."

"And what then?"

"Arrest her?"

"What can we charge her with?"

"Kidnapping. Being in possession of an illegal Time-Turner. Wilful damage to Ministry property. I'll think of something, don't you worry."

.

But before they could do anything, there was a disturbance in the air and another unmistakable apparition _crack_ at the base of the tower.

.


	23. Act 3, Scene 8: Let's go Home Again

**ACT III**

 **SCENE VIII**

.

 **NOW THAT WE'VE BEEN ROUND THE VILLAGE, LET'S GO HOME AGAIN**

.

Everyone turned towards the person who was standing at the far end of the nave patting her chest and panting slightly. She waved and trotted up the central aisle towards them, scattering splinters of glass with her feet.

"I saw your signal over the church," she said. "Excellent thinking. Dear Batty saw it too, so it will soon be over the whole village. I left the Ministry about an hour ago. I'm jolly relieved to find you here. Would have been a bit of a disaster if I'd misjudged and found myself stuck here in 1981!" She roared with laughter and slapped her thighs. "I'd have had to wait thirty-nine years to get it back! It's a bit of a shambles in here isn't it? Still, can't be helped."

Bewildered, Harry was quite certain he had never seen the jolly, round-faced, curly-haired woman before in his life; so why did she look familiar?

"WHO THE DEVIL ARE YOU?" roared Draco.

"My goodness!" said Hermione. "Augusta Twigg, if I'm not mistaken."

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Minister," said Augusta with a bow, then grabbed Harry's hand and pumped it vigorously. "I have followed your progress with great interest, Mr Potter."

"You've . . . what?"

"You want to know how you came to my attention," said Augusta observantly, although Harry was wondering no such thing. "When silly Merope Gaunt gave birth to that unfortunate child, poor thing"—Harry wondered if she was referring to Merope or Tom Riddle though neither elicited much sympathy from him—"it was significant enough to cause a number of disturbances in the flow. Indeed, for a while I wondered if a new Gate had opened."

"A Gate." Harry's head was starting to spin.

"As it happens that was not the case. But after poor dear Sybill made the only genuine prophecy of her life and still managed to make a colossal cock up of it, I couldn't resist seeing how it all played out in the end."

"And why are you here now?" asked Harry.

"I've come to collect this naughty creature of course." Augusta pointed to the struggling Delphini. "I've been chasing him backwards and forwards all over. He just can't resist the opportunity to cause trouble."

"Him?" said Ginny. "Do you mean she—this isn't actually Voldemort's daughter?"

"Goodness, of course not! He's not even a she. Are you?" Augusta dislodged the prayer book from between Delphini's teeth.

"Hello there, Gussie," said Delphini.

Albus looked horrified. "You mean I fancied a boy?"

Ginny patted his arm. "It's hardly the end of the world, dear."

"Mum!"

Harry stared at Delphini. Did she—he—look different somehow, or was Harry himself just seeing her—him—differently? It seemed so obvious that this was a youth. How could he ever have been taken for a girl? "So who is he?"

"Where he comes from he is called Autolycus. But he goes by many names. In this part of the world he's most often called Jack."

"Poor Jack," said the youth miserably. "It was only a bit of fun."

"A BIT OF FUN?" shouted Harry. "You killed a sixteen year old boy! You should be in Azkaban for the rest of your life!"

"He's immortal," said Augusta. "And you wouldn't be able to hold him for long. The only thing we can do is take him back where he came from—until the next time he gets bored." She addressed Jack. "Don't play for sympathy, young man. It's time to gather your pets and return them to where they belong."

"I was getting bored anyway. They're so predictable aren't they, humans? I thought Voldemorrrrt"—Jack rolled the word around his mouth as if enjoying the taste—"might have been an interesting challenge."

That's enough." said Augusta. "If you want me to unbind you, you must give me your word you'll cause no more trouble here."

"Oh, Gussie, you're no fun!"

"Your word, Jack."

"Oh all right." Jack stuck out his lower lip like a sulky child; all trace of the seductive Delphini gone. "You have my word."

"Pets," said Hermione. "What pets?"

"Oh, Minotaur, Cyclops, a Gryphon," said Augusta. "All the beasts he's stolen and brought through the Gate in Albania. A whole herd of Augean cattle for goodness' sake. Imagine the mess!"

"That's the second time you've mentioned Gates," said Harry. "Is there something we need to know?"

"Oh dear." Augusta tutted. "Such a shame they dropped Time Studies from the school curriculum. Does Professor Binns no longer cover _Of Majicke in ye tyme of Plesance?"_

"Of course he does," said Hermione.

"Does he?" said Harry. "I don't remember it."

"Not surprising mate," said Ron. "You were asleep. It's the most boring book in the history of books."

"It is perhaps a little dry," admitted Augusta, "but nevertheless informative. There have always been Gates between our Path and the Shadow Path. We have our own, of course. I daresay that is why the Ministry is situated where it is. Better to keep an eye on it in case of unexpected comings and goings."

"A Gate. Like a _portal_ you mean? The Ministry has a portal?"

"Of course!" said Hermione. "It's the Veil. That's right, isn't it, Augusta?"

Augusta tapped Harry's elbow with her wand. "We should go now. You know, don't you? You must not attempt to prevent what is about to happen."

Harry nodded. "If I have anything to do with it, things will stay as they have always been. Is everybody ready?"

.

.

.

" _Merlin!"_ Albus's panicked exclamation drew everyone's attention. He was sitting on a pew staring at something on his knees with an expression of complete horror on his face. "The blanket! We've still got the blanket!"

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "But if the blanket isn't on Harry when Hagrid takes him away—"

"—I won't get the message thirty-nine years from now!" Harry grabbed the little blanket from Albus's lap. "I've got to put it back!"

"Harry, No!" Ginny's cry was almost a scream. She snatched the blanket from Harry and handed it to Hermione. "You can't put it back! Remember Simon!"

"Who on earth is Simon?" asked Hermione.

"You mean Uncle Simon?" said Albus. "What's happened to Uncle Simon?"

"I'll tell you all about it as soon as I can, but now—" A sharp pain stabbed into Harry's scar and he cried out and grabbed his head.

"Harry!" Ginny caught his arm.

"It's Voldemort," he gasped. "He's here — close by! Over there somewhere!" he gestured wildly.

"Gussie—" said Jack.

"No!" Seven wands pointed at him.

He pouted. "Only joking."

"Leave the jokes to Weasley," said Draco. "He needs the practice."

.

Hermione levitated herself on to a gigantic cast iron radiator and peered through the window. "There is someone out there," she said. "Under the street light. A man. Tall. Rather distinguished-looking."

Harry levitated himself up to her side. "Ugh, that's him!" He clasped his head. The wizard who had been Tom Riddle turned towards the church abruptly as if he had heard something.

Hermione gasped. "What's wrong with his face?"

Harry ducked below the window. "He knows I'm here!"

"No he doesn't," said Hermione. "How can he? It's all right, he's turned away again."

Harry ventured another peep. Voldemort was very still, focused on the Potters' cottage but then he turned sharply and stared at the church again.

"Don't let yourself think about him," said Hermione. "Concentrate on something else. And nobody say his name."

"Hey, Dad." Albus beckoned Harry on to a pew. "Tell Scorpius about how Uncle Ron played Wizard Chess to help you get to the Philosopher's Stone.

"Yes, please," said Scorpius sitting on Harry's other side.

"Good choice," said Ron, joining them. "I don't think I got nearly enough credit for that."

"Overrated," said Draco with a glint in his eyes. "Your strategy lacked subtlety."

"I'd like to have seen you do it, Malfoy," said Ron.

"On Olympus," said Jack wistfully, "the gods play chess with the lives of mortals."

"Yes, well, dear," said Augusta, "I'm afraid you aren't a god."

There was a faint green flicker. Harry froze. "Did anyone else see that?"

"I did," said Draco. "It must have been . . ."

"You-Know-Who killing my dad," said Harry standing up and staring at the window. "In a few minutes it will be over."

"As soon as he—has been hit by the rebounding curse," said Hermione, "I'll take the blanket back to the cottage."

Albus put his hand out, shaking slightly. "No, Aunty Hermione. Let me take it back. It doesn't matter if baby Harry sees me, because I don't exist yet. And I need to put things right."

"I'll come with you," said Scorpius. "You shouldn't do it alone."

"Yes," said Draco unexpectedly, putting his hand on Scorpius's shoulder. "You are a Malfoy, and Malfoys do their duty. Always."

Harry looked at Ginny who nodded. "Let him do this."

Hermione handed Albus the blanket. Harry thought she whispered, "Brave boy."

A brighter green flash flickered in the window and a deafening explosion made the doors rattle. Harry found his legs wouldn't hold him, and sank into a pew. Ginny stood beside him and gripped his hand. Her other arm reached for Albus. Ron and Hermione drew close together and Draco rested a hand on Scorpius's shoulder. Augusta stood very still and even Jack cocked his head. It seemed that not one of them breathed for some time.

"Albus," said Hermione at last, "you mustn't wait any longer."

Scorpius stood up straight and pulled his shoulders back. "Let's go, Al."

.

.

Harry and the others watched from the top of the tower. "Look at that," said Ron rubbing his knees. "I can see the cottage now that the Fidelius charm is broken. The chimney's gone and half the roof. Some of it's still burning. That whole corner of the cottage is—" As he spoke another section of the wall collapsed.

Ginny grabbed Harry's arm. "Oh, Harry what if—"

"They'll be fine," he said and held tight to her hand. Everything was in shadow. People were coming out of of the surrounding houses. The sound of shouting and crying and confusion drifted up from the street below.

.

"Look," Hermione whispered, though there was no need to do so. Two crouching shadows slid around the corner of the cottage and disappeared. A couple of minutes later—though it seemed far longer to Harry—they reappeared and headed back towards the church keeping close against the churchyard wall. Blue flashing lights were visible on the roads approaching the village and the distant sound of sirens grew louder.

"Come on," said Hermione. "Downstairs again. Stop complaining, Ron. You're a wizard. Make yourself a stairlift."

"Genius," said Ron. "Did ever I tell you m'wife's a genius? After you."

.

Ginny opened the church door and the boys slipped inside. Both of them were dusted with ash and grit and the bottoms of their robes were black with soot. She caught Albus's hand. "Did you—?"

Albus nodded, his dirty face drawn and pale. He picked bits of debris from his lips. "It was—awful! The cottage was just about destroyed. Everything smashed or burnt. All the windows were blown out."

Ginny put her arms round him and he buried his face in her shoulder. His voice was muffled. "I've never seen a dead person before. And they were my grandparents but they were so young! They weren't much older than James—my brother! And they never even met me." He drew away from Ginny and turned to face everyone. "I just laid the blanket on top of baby Harry in the cot. He was crying, and I couldn't do anything. It was so cold in there. All the roof was missing and half the wall. Scorpius had to stop me picking him up."

"He did the right thing," said Harry. "Thank you, Scorpius."

"We'd better tidy up," said Ginny. "We can't leave the place like this. It's—disrespectful."

Harry cast his eye over the broken glass and splintered wood and the charred vestry door and had to agree. Between them they set to work sweeping the floors and repairing the damaged woodwork.

"Albus and Scorpius," said Draco, "you need to leave Bathilda's wands on one of the front pews where they can easily be found."

"Ssh!" said Hermione lifting her head from the burnt vestry door she was working on. "What's that?"

There was throbbing rumble overhead which grew closer and seemed to hover a while above the church before dropping to the ground nearby. The noise stopped.

"That's Sirius's motorbike," said Harry. "We're done here. It's time to go."

.

* * *

.

The Muggle war memorial on the green shivered and changed into the statue of James and Lily and Harry as they looked at it.

"Must be all right then," said Ron.

"We need to be sure we're on the right Time-Path," said Harry. "Come with me." The party trailed after him to Lily and James's grave. "Just a sec." Harry leaned down to look at the base of the gravestone and picked up a little bunch of primroses. "It's here." He heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin." Just to be sure, he counted the flowers. Thirteen, yes. Except—that _was_ right wasn't it? Of course it was. He shook his head and put the flowers back on the grave.

.

.

"Excellent. Now if you don't mind, I'll have it back." Augusta held out her hand.

"Have what back?" said Harry.

"The Time-Turner," said Hermione. "It is hers after all."

"Indeed," said Augusta. "Made by me, to my own design. Unique. And how could I operate without it?"

"Operate?"

"As interchronological trouble-shooter of course."

"Oh." Harry blinked. "I suppose, in that case—"

Draco started to laugh.

"Don't worry, Mr Potter. I will be sure to make sure it is in the drawer in the Time Room at seven in the morning on the thirtieth of August, this year. After all, haha!" Augusta chuckled, "I already have, have I not?"

Harry was having problems with his brain. But Hermione was smiling knowingly and Draco was still sniggering so he supposed it all made sense in some way. He thrust the golden Time-Turner at Augusta. "I'm rather hoping I never see one of these again," he said. "Good luck on your adventures."

"Good man. Perhaps we will meet again. And now"—she hooked her arm firmly through Jack's—"it's time to undo your other messes. Farewell to you all." She put her wand to her temple in salute, and Harry, out of habit, took his own wand and returned the gesture. A whirlpool of air spun before her, and in a second she and Jack had been sucked into it and were gone.

.


	24. Act 3, Scene 9: Leaves Love Behind

**ACT III**

 **SCENE IX**

.

 **LEAVES LOVE BEHIND**

.

"Hello, Harry." Julia offered him her cheek and waved him through into the kitchen. Harry's eyes were drawn to the basket and bowls on the utility room floor. Clean but empty.

Julia followed his gaze and nodded." Would you like to see?"

"Please," Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

Julia kicked off her slippers and shoved her feet into a pair of boots. "Follow me." She led him outside and down to the end of the garden where a patch of bare earth scattered with yellow and brown fallen leaves was overhung by a tall chestnut tree. "Adam dug the grave. It's one of the most painful things."

Harry looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

"Simon would have wanted to dig the grave himself. He would have seen it as an obligation. A labour of"—her voice broke—"love. Sorry." She pulled a tissue out from inside her sleeve and blew her nose.

Harry squatted down and touched the damp soil. "Are you going to mark it?"

"Yes, eventually. There's a rock over by the fence. We always said we would use that. But it's too heavy for me to move."

"Would you like me to do it?"

"Oh, Harry, would you? I think Simon would have liked that."

"Consider me his deputy. Show me where this rock is then."

.

It was a simple task to levitate the lump of granite into place and adjust it until Julia was happy with the position. "It will get the morning sun," she said, stroking it. "I'll plant daffodils and fritillaries to flower in the spring."

"Do you want any words on the stone? I can do that easily."

"Something simple, please," she said.

Harry raised his wand again and neat letters appeared on the flattest side of the stone. _ALBIE. FAITHFUL FRIEND._

"Will that do?"

"It will indeed. Thank you so much. Now I need to get back to my baking. I've biscuits in the oven."

.

Harry settled himself into a chair at the table and Julia poured tea from her old brown teapot. He sniffed. "Smells good. What are you making?"

"Soul cakes. For the Souling tomorrow."

"Souling?"

"You know. Hallowe'en. Here." She took one from a pile on a wire rack and offered it to him. "These have cooled. Try one."

Harry took the pale, round biscuit and bit into it. It was quite crisp with a sugary crust and strongly flavoured with spices. "Unusual," he said.

She smiled. "I'm not keen recipe is centuries old, but I think tastes have changed. I'll take these down to the pub later, but I won't be going to the ceremony."

"But you love it!"

She crossed over to the window and wiped away a patch of condensation, looking out up the side of the little hill that sheltered the cottage. "I'll be able to see the bonfire from here. But I can't face going this year. Not without Simon."

"No," agreed Harry. "I understand. What about Megan?"

"I think she feels the same. She's coming for dinner."

Harry finished his tea and pulled Julia into a hug. "I'll call again soon."

"I promised Lily some horse riding."

"She'll love that. I'll bring her in the Christmas holidays if you're up to it."

"Of course I am. Life goes on, Harry. It goes on going on."

.

* * *

.

"Thank you for letting me take the children home for the day, Professor," said Harry. "I'll have them back in good time for the Hallowe'en Feast tonight."

"I know how important this day is to you, Auror Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "And it has been a difficult start to the term. But I would not have considered it if Albus hadn't shown such a marked improvement. I have allowed Mr Malfoy to take Scorpius home as well. But please don't make a habit of it."

"I won't," promised Harry.

"I'm afraid I can't go back on my word," added the professor. "The boys are still in detention and will not be allowed to attend tonight's festivities. Though I suspect neither of them will be too disappointed."

.

* * *

.

When they got home, James was insouciant but cagey and lost no time in shedding his school robes. "You won't mind if I er . . . pop out for a bit?"

He wasn't really asking and Harry did not consider refusing permission. "Can you be back for lunch? A bit of family time would be nice."

Lily was resentful and made sure her parents knew it. "I'll miss the best part!" she wailed. "Why couldn't I stay at school?"

"I'll have you back in plenty of time for the Feast," said Harry.

"But I won't know what Matilda is wearing until it's too late!"

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to find something the same!"

Harry stared at her helplessly. "But why would you want to wear the same? Surely you'd rather be different?"

"Oh, Dad, you don't understand!"

"I know," said Harry. "It's the story of my life."

"I tell you what," said Ginny. "If the menfolk are busy, why don't we pop out to the shops for an hour?"

Lily's sulk lifted instantly. "Muggle shopping, Mum, pleeese?"

"If that's what you want," agreed Ginny.

"River Island? And Claire's Accessories?"

"River Island," Ginny confirmed. "And Claire's Accessories."

Lily gloated. "Matty will be so jealous."

.

Albus was as quiet as ever but his silence felt more like contentment. The restless dissatisfaction he had carried through the summer had gone.

"Will you come out with me, Al?" said Harry. "There's something I'd like to show you."

Albus shrugged. "Sure. Where are we going?"

"You'll see. Wear boots and outdoor robes."

.

* * *

.

They stood together on a gentle grassy slope. Albus was slightly green and swallowed several times.

"It takes a while to get used to," said Harry patting him on the back. "Even when you've been Apparating for years it's sometimes a bit rough."

"Where are we?" Albus blew his nose and looked around.

"Follow me." Harry led the way through a low gate set in a wrought iron fence.

"A cemetery? Dad!"

"Sh. Show some respect." Harry paused to look out across the surrounding landscape. "One day when you hear your own mortality sniffing at your heels, you'll take the time to stop and look at the changing of the seasons." He breathed in deeply through his nose. "Smell that? Winter's on the air."

"But it's warm, and the sun's shining," Albus pointed out.

"So it is," said Harry, "but there was a frost last night, and most of the leaves have fallen already."

.

Not far away from the path was a new grave. Freshly sprouted grass lay like a green mist on the soil. A man and woman were standing beside it hand in hand. As Harry and Albus passed, the woman looked up and met Harry's eyes squarely. Albus gasped and looked away quickly, grasping Harry's arm. "Oh, Dad! That's Craig's parents!"

"Yes, I know," said Harry.

"I . . . it was my fault Craig died."

"You mustn't blame yourself. It was Delphini or Jack or whatever you want to call him who killed Craig."

"But it _was_ my fault. And I'll have to live with that forever. But it's nothing compared to what Craig's parents will have to live with."

Harry had nothing to add and let Albus continue.

"If I could go back and change—"

"But you can't. If this sorry sequence of events has taught us anything," said Harry, "it's that our own past can't be changed." He paused. "You know, I missed my last year of school. It was—"

"I know, Dad. You were all busy saving the world and being the wonderful Boy who Lived."

Harry stopped. "Saving the world? Perhaps I was, Albus, but it didn't feel like that at the time. Do you know what I remember more than anything?"

"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me."

"I remember"—Harry started walking again and opened his mind to the memories he seldom allowed himself to recall—"I remember being tired. So tired, but hardly able to sleep. And then when I did sleep, the waking up. The horror of it all. Feeling peaceful for a moment. Happy. Then remembering everything. The grief. The fear. The horror. The despair."

"Despair?"

"Yes, son. Despair. We didn't believe we could win. But we kept on fighting because we didn't know what else we could do. It wasn't glamorous and exciting. It was terrifying and exhausting."

"Oh. I suppose."

Harry led Albus uphill between rows of neatly tended graves until they stopped before a simple, clean white stone.

"Oh, Dad!"

"Cedric's grave," said Harry. "I come here now and then. Out of respect. I liked Cedric. And this is a lovely, peaceful place. You can hear yourself think. I didn't truly understand Amos until I thought I had lost you. The grief was indescribable."

"Was it?"

"Albus, I know we don't always see eye to eye. But I love you. I would die for you—for any of you—in a heartbeat."

Albus knelt down before the gravestone.

"Don't do that," said Harry. "You'll get all muddy and wet."

"I won't melt, Dad. Cedric was good. Really good. Good inside." Albus stood up again, graceful with the easy suppleness of youth.

Harry considered hugging his son but perhaps they had made enough progress for now. Best not to push it. Instead he patted Albus on the back. Something made him look back the way they had come, and his heart sank. "Oh no," he breathed. "Not now, please."

"What's up?" asked Albus.

"My timing, that's what," said Harry. "It's Amos." He nodded to an approaching wheelchair. "I knew I'd have to face him again eventually, but . . ."

"It's all right, Dad," said Albus. "Let me speak to him." He took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height. Then he walked steadily down towards the old man, knelt before him and took his hands. The nurse leaned down to listen to something Amos said, then nodded, walked a little distance away and sat down on a bench.

Harry pushed his hands into the deep pockets of his robes and looked out from the slope of the cemetery across the sweep of countryside. It was bright and sunny, but there was a cold edge to the wind. Small white clouds scudded across the blue sky. Many of the fields below were already ploughed, but some were rough with stubble; others were still green. In places the ground rose and fell in long straight lines of ridge and furrow. There were farms and cottages and villages and new building sites. _It's all about Time_ , he thought.

Albus rejoined him and Harry saw the nurse pushing Amos in his chair away from them, down the hill and out of the cemetery.

"I told him about—everything," said Albus. "About how just a small change can have huge consequences. And how whatever we did wouldn't have affected this Time-Path in any case. I think he understood."

Albus's voice was deeper than it had been a few weeks ago. It had stopped breaking. It was a man's voice now. Soon his shoulders would broaden and hair would start sprouting on unseen parts of his body, if it hadn't already. Harry touched the top of his own head where he tried not to catch sight of it in the mirror. His hair was definitely getting thinner.

.

* * *

.

Later, when they had finished lunch, Harry pushed his plate aside and rested his forearms on the table. "I've got some bad news for you, kids. I didn't want to tell you before you settled back in at school. But I'm afraid Simon . . . died . . . a few weeks ago."

Oh no!" Lily's distress was genuine. "Poor Uncle Simon. And poor Aunty Jules."

"I'm sorry to say the old dog has gone too."

Lily gave a high pitched—and in Harry's opinion, disproportionate—wail of grief. "Oooh nooo! Oh not Albie!"

"Well," said James pragmatically, "Jules can always get another dog if she needs the company. And I suppose she will because she's too old to get another boyfriend."

Ginny's jaw dropped.

"Merlin's beard, James!" said Harry. "Sometimes the unfathomable depths of your insensitivity take my breath away."

James shrugged. "Whatever. I'm going out again." He manoeuvred himself into a tight Muggle-style leather jacket and paused in front of a mirror to comb his hair into a roguish quiff. "Seeya laters."

"I want you back here at four," said Ginny. "No later. No excuses. We won't wait for you."

"Oh, chill, Mum."

 _Chill?_ Ginny mouthed at Harry.

"Wait," said Harry. "I want you to know; even though I think you are an insensitive lout, I still love you."

James looked at him in horror. "No Dad, don't try and hug me. Just don't. Just, ew."

Hurt, Harry turned to Lily who beamed and threw her arms round him. "I love you Dad. I really love you. Can I have horse riding lessons? Please, Daddy?"

Ginny sniggered. Harry looked at Albus who held his hands out defensively. "We've done that stuff, Dad, haven't we?"

"He'd have been sixty-one in a couple of days," Harry said disentangling himself from Lily's arms. "He once told me he was aiming for Mischief Night and just missed it. But he hadn't really lived for sixty-one years had he?"

"Here." Ginny pushed a dish towards him. "Have some more pie."

.

* * *

.

Later, Harry and Ginny deposited the children back at school. They were not really children any more, he admitted. Even Lily was growing away from him. When he turned to say goodbye, Lily and James had already gone.

He and Ginny followed Albus to the Slytherin common room. Ginny ran her finger over Albus's downy chin. "Your dad's got something for you." She gave Harry a meaningful and possibly warning look.

"It's not another blanket is it?" asked Albus.

Harry thought the remark might have been a joke but wasn't entirely sure. "I realise the blanket wasn't such a great present. I was thinking of myself more than you. And I'm sorry for it." He took a small velvet bag out of his pocket and handed it to Albus. "I thought this might be more use."

Albus untied the cord and took the contents out. "A pair of little mirrors?"

"One of them only works in the corner here," said Harry. "I had it repaired but it couldn't be completely fixed."

"Oh, Dad. Is this—?"

"It's the two-way mirror Sirius gave me. If I'd only used it more, who knows . . . But you can't turn the clock back."

"Well you can," said Albus. "Obviously. But it's a pretty bad idea."

"Sirius and my dad used this to talk to each other when they were in separate detentions," said Harry. "I thought you might be able to make use of it. Don't let Professor McGonagall know about it though. I think she'd take a dim view."

"I think so too," said Albus. "Thanks, Dad. Yeah. Thanks." His face lit up and Harry turned to see Scorpius and Draco coming in. Albus and Scorpius did not speak but stood beaming at each other.

Harry cleared his throat. "Scorpius," he said gruffly and held out his hand.

Gingerly, Scorpius took it. "Mr Potter."

Harry's grip was extra-firm. "Call me Harry, there's a good chap."

Albus glared at him. "Dad! Stop it!"

"Sorry," said Harry.

Ginny stepped forward and drew Scorpius into a hug, kissing his cheek. "Look after each other, boys," she said. "No more shenanigans, right? Knuckle down and get those O. under your belts."

Scorpius nodded and smiled at her. "Yes, Mrs Potter."

"Call me Ginny."

"Albus." Draco offered his hand.

"Mr Malfoy."

"Please call me Draco. You will be most welcome to come and stay at Malfoy Manor during the holidays if you wish."

"Oh. Thanks, Mr—Draco. I'd like that."

Draco turned to Harry and Ginny. "Pott—er, Harry. And Ginny. I would be delighted if you could join me for dinner at the Manor sometime soon. Next Saturday perhaps? No need for formal dress. I wonder if Grang—Hermione and, ah, Ronald would care to come too?"

"Thank you, Draco," said Ginny. "That would be lovely."

"In that case," said Draco, "I'll see you next week." He bowed and turned to leave.

"Not so fast," said Harry grabbing Draco's robes. "Neither of us can leave yet. You can't have forgotten we've got a Deathday party to attend?"

.


	25. Act 3, Scene 10:Time Which None can Bind

**ACT III**

 **SCENE X**

.

 **TIME WHICH NONE CAN BIND**

.

 _Home._ It was the first word that came to mind though he did not know what it meant. _Morning._ Yes, morning. And _light._ He breathed in. More words came to him. _Hungry. Thirsty. Water._

The Gate was behind him, a solid lintel of lichen-covered granite. Already the dark tunnel beyond was fading back into the Shadow Path. The ground sloped away from it; rough tussocky grass and brambles and the stalks of nettles with a few stubborn brown leaves hanging on. He padded downhill and wriggled on his belly under a wire fence to a stream. The water ran cold between his paws as he sank into the soft mud. Curling his long tongue back, he lapped and lapped. Something moved in the corner of his eye. _Food. Rabbit._ He _ran_. He _killed_. He _ate._

He licked his sharp teeth with a long tongue. Warm blood was running in his veins. He pricked his ears. _Noise_. Birds singing. Flapping wings. Dripping. _Rain._

.

He needed to do something. What? He stretched and shook from nose to tail, spraying a shower of water away from his shaggy coat. Then he stood up on his back legs and stretched again. What were those things? _Hands. Fingers._ He flexed them and they cracked. Faint pains startled him.

He looked around. _Sky. Grass. Trees._ The first word came back to him. _Home._ Home. he lifted his head and sniffed. _Home._ He started to walk.

.

Soon the ground beneath his feet was hard and flat. _Road_. _Home_. His feet carried him onward. Behind him there was a faint noise, getting louder. He turned. Something was racing towards him. A monster with great glowing eyes. He froze in fear and confusion. The monster screamed, and roared, and halted almost touching him. Unable to move, he shut his eyes and waited for its jaws to close on him.

.

Instead there was a _slam_ and a voice. A _man's_ voice.

"You bloody idiot! What do you think you're doing? I nearly hit you!" The tone of the voice changed. "Hey, mate, are you okay? Are you sick? Do you need help?"

Something touched him: took hold of his arm. "Bloody hell. Si? Si, is that you?"

He opened his eyes. The monster was motionless though its eyes still glowed and it rumbled softly.

"It is you!" The grip on his arm tightened and shook him. "Where the hell have you been for the last two months? Poor Julia's been distraught. She's convinced you're dead! You must be frozen. Let's get you home."

 _Home._

.

Now strong hands were on both his arms, urging him to move. Startled, he shook them off and shrank away looking around for an escape route.

"Hey, mate, it's all right. It's me. Adam." The man's voice was calming but Adam meant nothing.

"You don't have to get in the van if you don't want to. It's only a few hundred yards. We'll walk. Come on." The man beckoned but did not try to touch him again.

.

Not knowing what else to do, he followed. As they walked, the man started speaking into something he held in his hand. "Jules? You need to come out into the lane.

"Yes, now. You need to come now.

"You'll see soon enough. Come down towards the bridge."

.

.

Another person was on the road ahead hurrying towards him.

Afraid, he turned and tried to run away, but the Adam-man stopped him with arms too strong to break away from. "Where are you going? It's Jules. You know Jules."

He did not know Jules. It was a . . . _woman_. An _old_ woman. Another word came to him. _Mother._

The woman was making strange noises as she touched his face. "Simon? Sweetheart, Oh Simon. Oh my love!"

 _Love. Mother._ The tips of her fingers tickled pleasantly. He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation.

"Help me get him into the house, Adam."

"Don't you think we should take him to hospital?"

Though he did not know what hospital was, for some reason the word terrified him and he started to struggle.

"It's all right, it's all right." The mother-woman took hold of his hand and squeezed. "You don't have to go anywhere."

He calmed. The woman urged him towards a door. He resisted. The woman-mother seemed to understand. "You're safe here," she said. "You're home now."

 _Safe. Home._

She opened the door and a smell came from inside. A warm, soft smell. _Home._ "Please come inside, sweetheart. Please."

The Adam-man spoke. "He's soaking wet and filthy, Jules. Where's he been?"

.

Arms were urging him down on to something _soft_ and _dry,_ another soft, dry thing was placed on top of him.

"You can leave us now, Adam. Thank you. Thank you so much for bringing him home."

 _Home._

"I'll call you later, Jules. See how he is."

.

A cup was held out to him. He gulped the warm sweet drink until it was all gone. The mother-woman wiped his face with a damp cloth and touched her lips to his.

 _Kiss._

She stroked his face and head and whispered to him. "I didn't say goodbye."

 _Love. Home._

His eyes closed and he slept.

.

.

When he woke, for a few seconds he luxuriated in the warmth and comfort. He was lying down and something soft was behind his head. He was _home_ and it smelt of flowers and woodsmoke. But where was home? Without moving, he tried to see his surroundings. The dim light was coming from a lamp with a pink shade. A few feet away a fire flickered in a small stove, a basket of logs beside it. The ceiling was low and beamed, and the floor was tiled, with a richly coloured rug laid on it in front of the fire.

.

"You're awake." The woman was there and touched him again. Her cheeks were wet but she was happy. "Sit up." She held something out to him half-wrapped in a cloth. Long and slender. It called to him; seductive, irresistible.

He reached for it: took it in his hand. And cried out in pain and shock. A cramp caught in his gut and coloured lights danced before his eyes.

.

He remembered.

James was dead.

"Remus!" he yelled, leaping to his feet and knocking a wooden stool over. "And Harry! Where's Harry?"

The woman caught his arms and he stared down at her. Who was she?

"Shush, Simon," she said, brushing his hair away from his face. "Harry's fine."

"Who are you?" He pushed her hand away. "Where am I? And my name isn't Simon!"

Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes, oddly familiar eyes, widened, bright and liquid. "You don't know who I am?"

"I've never seen you before."

Her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to speak. At last, she found her voice. "Do you know who you are?"

"Of course I do. I'm Sirius Black. But I—" He felt exhausted and disoriented. "I think I've been away for a while."

"You have. What's the last thing you remember?"

He closed his eyes and tried to think back past the long, timeless darkness. His parents. Hogwarts. Azkaban. The Dementors. Buckbeak. And the woman—what had her name been? Julia, that was it. What had happened to her? For a time he had contemplated a future with her, though perhaps he had always known there was no future to be had. Not for him.

"We went to the Department of Mysteries," he said. "Because—because of Harry. There was fighting in the Death Chamber. Harry was there; he was holding his own like a champion! I was duelling Bella. Winning! She dropped her wand, I was about to finish it when . . . something distracted me. But Bella had hold of her wand again and I saw her pointing it at me and . . . and then I was in the darkness. For a long time. A long time. Oh, Merlin. How long?"

The woman was looking away from him. "It's twenty-four years since that happened."

"Twenty-four years," he repeated, looking at his fingers as if it would help him make sense of the number. They were dirty and the nails were long, broken and ragged. "The war. Is the war over?"

"Yes. It's been over for twenty years. Harry defeated Voldemort. And he's fine. Married. Three children."

He breathed a long sigh of relief and sat down again. Everything else could wait.

.

He wanted to rest but the woman was persistent. "Don't you remember anything else. Are you sure you don't know me?"

"No, I—" Sour bile rose in his throat as it occurred to him that perhaps he did. "Julia? Oh no!" He shrank away. "But you're—"

"I'm old."

There was no answer; no comfort he could offer, for it was true and he had nothing to say. He turned his face to the wall in horror. Heard her crying; thought he might have cried himself if he had been able to. But his eyes were dry. After a minute she left the room, closing the door behind her. Probably he should get up and leave this place. Go somewhere else. He would just close his eyes for a moment. Just . . . for a moment . . .

.

* * *

.

Voices in another room woke him, then the door opened and a willowy, young, dark-haired woman came in. A thorn of recognition prodded at him. She reminded him of someone. One of his cousins perhaps? Still, she was more to his taste than the grey-haired woman he could still not equate with the Julia he had known. He summoned his most charming smile as he stood to greet her. "Hello there. Have we met before?"

The woman's reaction was not what he had hoped for. She looked disgusted. "You're flirting with me! For crying out loud, I'm your daughter!"

"That's ridiculous! I don't have any children."

"Don't you?" Her tone was chilly.

Then he remembered. Pressing his head against Julia's belly. Sensing the life in there. Feeling a love and tenderness more profound than anything he had experienced before.

He dropped to his knees on the soft hearthrug and pressed his fists against his forehead. "Is this a nightmare?"

The young woman knelt beside him and he turned his face to hers. Her eyes were grey, clear, familiar. An uncomfortable tickling sensation developed inside his skull.

"Merlin!" He tried to resist. "You're a bloody legilimens! Get out of my blasted mind!"

"I'm never quite out of your mind," she said. "And that's your own fault. You should have known better than to practise amateur legilimency on an unborn foetus."

"Is that what I did? That was a stupid thing to do."

"It worked out in the end," she said. "But if you hurt Mum any more I'll wipe your mind and turn you into a vegetable."

"Perhaps you are a Black after all," he said with a touch of admiration. "That particular sort of sadistic ruthlessness. I think you take after your grandmother."

"Go and get cleaned up," she said. "You're filthy. I'm going to find Harry."

.

.

He looked at himself in the small bathroom mirror and did not recognise what he saw. His hair and beard were white under the dirt. There were deep lines on his forehead and in the corners of his eyes. He was old. How could that be? He felt the truth of it; felt the years behind him. His daughter was a grown woman. And Julia . . . she seemed to have expectations he could not fulfil.

What was he going to do? Where would he go? Back to Grimmauld Place? Did the Order still exist? Did he have any money left?

The shower was already running. Julia had turned it on for him but he had no idea how to turn it off again. He stepped under the water, turning his face into the warm spray.

.

* * *

.

When an ethereal silver centaur trotted through his office wall, Harry had no doubt who it had come from.

"Harry," it said in Megan's voice. "It's Dad. Can you come?"

Without even pausing to lock his door, he went.

.

* * *

.

Julia was tense and pale, sitting at the kitchen table nursing half a cup of cold tea. "I can't bear to be near him," she said. "I disgust him. I don't know that this isn't worse than him being dead."

Megan was calm and patted the back of Julia's hand. " He's in the sitting room," she said to Harry. "He wants to see you."

.

.

Simon was sullen, hunched on the edge of the sofa before the fire as if he was chilled. His hair and beard were long and straggly and he seemed to have shrunk. "Harry?" He stood up and gave a miserable half-laugh. "You look like your grandfather."

"Thanks, mate," said Harry. "You're no spring chicken yourself. Don't you remember anything?"

"Nothing after the battle in the Death Chamber." Simon sat down again, wrapping his arms around himself. "I remember falling backwards, that's all. And that was twenty-four years ago?"

"Don't go away," said Harry. "Have a nice cup of tea. I'll be back as soon as I can."

.

* * *

.

The tiny memory vial was where Harry had left it, in the bottom drawer of his desk behind the bottle of firewhisky. He put it carefully into an inside pocket and went in search of Hermione.

.

"Harry? You look a bit perturbed. What's up?"

"I need your help," said Harry. "Have you got an hour to spare?"

"Make it half an hour. Help with what?"

Harry took the tiny memory vial out of his pocket. "Help with this."

Hermione took it from him. "A memory? Whose is it? And what do you want me to do with it?"

"It's, er, a friend's. I've been . . . taking care of it for him. He's been . . . poorly. But he needs it back now."

"What sort of poorly friend gives you their memory to take care of?"

"I don't think I care for your tone, Hermione," said Harry stiffly. "Why shouldn't they ask me? But I need your expertise to give it back to him."

"Very well," said Hermione, handing the vial back. "Where are we going?"

.

* * *

.

"Oh, it's Julia, isn't it?" said Hermione in surprise as Harry showed her through the back door into the cottage kitchen. "Hello again." She shook Julia's hand. "How are you?"

"Erm, fine thanks." Julia looked at Harry who grimaced and forced a smile.

"And Megan." Hermione's manner was reserved.

"Minister." Megan nodded respectfully.

"Harry says his friend needs my help."

"Ah, a friend, yes," said Julia. "Please come through to the sitting room."

"What's your friend's name?" asked Hermione as she followed Julia.

"Simon," said Julia. "It's Simon."

"Simon?" Hermione gave Harry a quizzical look. "Wasn't that—?" She eased herself down and knelt on the floor in front of Simon who was still sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. "Hello, Simon," she said speaking clearly and slowly. "My name is Hermione."

"He's not deaf," said Julia. "Or stupid. Generally speaking."

Hermione smirked. "Sorry. Force of habit. I have to deal with a lot of idiots. Harry—" She held out her hand and Harry passed her the memory vial.

"What the hell is that?" said Julia.

"It's a memory," said Harry. "Simon's. He gave it to me just before—I didn't understand why. Now I think I do."

.

Hermione pulled the stopper from the tiny bottle and put the end of her wand to the lip. The misty strands twisted and curled into it. "Keep very still, Simon," she said. "Take some deep breaths, exhale slowly, and try to clear your mind." She put the wand to Simon's forehead. " _Redintegro Memoria."_

.

Simon gasped and blinked as if emerging into bright sunlight. His eyes focused on Julia and reached out towards her. "Julia," he whispered. "I was going to bring you flowers. Don't cry, sweetheart. I'm back now." He looked around. "Megan?" He held out his hand.

She took it and kissed it. "Dad. Welcome home."

"Harry. Good to see you, mate. And as I live and breathe, Hermione Granger." He smiled at her. Then he fainted.

.

Hermione had been deathly pale but now her face developed a deep, angry flush. She drew herself upright and sucked a long breath in through her nose. She did not take her eyes off Simon but poked Harry in the chest with her wand. "You," she hissed. "My office. Ten minutes." Then with a sharp crack, she was gone.

"Oh dear," said Megan. "I think you're in trouble."

"I think so too," agreed Harry. "I suppose I'd better go and face the music."

But even though he knew Hermione was going to rake him over some very hot coals, his heart was light and he would be smiling for a while yet.

.

.

* * *

.

The freshly dug earth was still soft and the rainwater drained freely away without puddling. Padfoot nudged his muzzle into it. He could smell musty humus; dead leaves and insects and slugs and winter dormancy. _Old lad! Old lad!_ he whined.

Julia was kneeling at his side, her hand on his back repeatedly drawing a line of comfort from his neck to his tail, leaving a trail of warmth where it had been. He lifted his head from the ground and turned it into her belly, then after a moment shook himself and stood up, pulling her into his arms. "I should have been here. The old fellow can't have understood."

"He was eighteen, Simon—at least. You couldn't have kept him alive forever."

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "The time will come when one of us will leave the other. Will go to the place from where there is no return. It's dark, Julia, and quiet; but it's not to be feared."

"It's the being left-behind which is to be feared," said Julia. "You have left me twice now. Will you leave me behind again?"

"Who knows," he said. "They're not a long-lived family, the Blacks. But I'll always be here." He placed his palm flat on her breastbone. "Never doubt it."

.

.

* * *

.

Harry knocked gently at the door to the Minister for Magic's office and slid inside.

Hermione glared at him from her desk and did not speak. Harry sat down opposite her and waited for the storm to break. She started a regular sharp tapping with the end of her quill. In a few seconds the sound started to set Harry's teeth on edge. After half a minute he was goaded into protest.

"Can't you stop doing that?"

Hermione's eyes flashed with fury and she started tapping louder.

"I'll explain everything, Hermione," he promised, "if you'll just stop making that horrible noise."

She breathed in deeply. "Sirius Black," she said and stopped tapping. "Sirius Black is alive. And you didn't think it worth mentioning? I don't like to be the last to know. About anything." Her voice was icy. "When did it happen? Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you trust me? Have I ever let you down, Harry? Ever?"

"You know you haven't." Harry put his hand over hers. "I wanted to tell you so much. Nearly did more than once. It's been—oh—twelve years now."

"Twelve years! Twelve years!" She withdrew her hand from under his. "You had no right to keep this secret!"

"I had no right not to," said Harry. "It wasn't my secret to tell. Simon—Sirius—didn't think you would be prepared to . . . let sleeping dogs lie, as it were."

"That's a terrible joke."

"I know. It's the only one I can think of at the moment. Would you have left him alone if you had known?"

"Harry, he fell into the Veil! And came out again! Can't you see how much he could add to our knowledge?"

Harry looked at her without saying anything and after a minute she shook her head. "No. No I wouldn't. I couldn't have."

"And now?" Harry asked.

"Now? Maybe some things are best left alone after all. I'm not promising, mind. If we ever need that information—"

"Fair enough," said Harry. "I won't ask for more than that."

.

Her window showed the ocean somewhere warm and sunny. Australia perhaps; Harry knew she was particularly fond of New South Wales. The sky was a clear, vivid blue unmarred by any clouds. The sea glittered, still and placid until, as he watched, a faint darkness appeared under the water and the surface began to churn. Then a great shining dark dome broke the surface, followed by a wide, graceful tail. A plume of white shot vertically into the air making momentary rainbows, then the huge creature disappeared again beneath the surface and after a minute all was still again.

.

"It's like that." Harry got up and stood in front of the window. Hermione came to stand by his side and he put his arm around her shoulders. "Everything looks still and calm. Predictable. You can't see what's underneath, you just know it's unimaginably vast and full of mysteries. And then every so often something breaks the surface, Causes a disturbance. Then it all settles down again till next time." A sharp dorsal fin sliced through the water, moving swiftly across, leaving a symmetrical vee-shaped wake behind. "I'm sorry. I hate keeping secrets from you. You're my anchor, you know. Ginny is my rock but you're my anchor."

"Oh, Harry."

"It's true. I'd be lost without either of you. But can I go now? I've got a pile of paperwork to get through."

She groaned. "You and me both. Off you go then." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "It's all gone quiet in the Adriatic, thankfully. But we've been tipped off about a banshee trafficking ring in Ireland. You'll enjoy that. And I've got some good news for you."

"You have?"

"I have," she said. "I saw Percy yesterday. He's coming back to work in a fortnight."

.

.

* * *

 _Mischief Managed._

 _._

 _Exit, pursued by a bear._

.

* * *

.

 **A/N: Hector and Erasmus first appeared in _Harry Potter and the Eversion of Magic._ Sirius and Julia's story is told in _Dark Birthright_ and _Finding the Way Home._**

 _._


End file.
